Across Enemy Lines
by Dreamality
Summary: After the survivors split into two groups, the rift between the camps is deepened when a rivalry develops. When two people from opposite camps fall in love, can the survivors learn to reunite in order to save a life?
1. Lost

**Across Enemy Lines**

**by Dreamality**

**Rating: PG-13** for drug references, some language, minimal violence

**Summary:** The survivors split up into two camps. One camp, led by Jack, goes into the jungle where there is fresh water. The others, led by Sawyer and Sayid, stay on the beach to wait for the rescuers. A rivalry develops, but when love blossoms between two people from opposite camps, can the survivors learn to reunite? Or will this tale end in tragedy?

**Genre:** Drama/Romance

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

**Author's Note:** This story is AU, meaning it will not follow the actual plotline of the show. That should have been obvious just after reading the summary, but just in case you didn't catch that, please keep in mind that what's happening in the show may or may not have immediate relevance to what's happening in this story.

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**Chapter One:**

The night was very still. Not one breath of air stirred the leaves of the tropical trees inhabiting the jungle and a sticky, oppressive heat lay over the beach like a too-warm blanket in the middle of summer. Underneath the starry sky and the sickle moon, Claire lay flat on her back with her hands on her stomach.

She felt exhausted, yet her eyes refused to shut. Her baby was especially active that night, constantly kicking and moving. Every time he paused enough to let Claire slip to the very brink of sleep, another kick would jolt her fully awake. As usual, it soon led to a sudden and strong urge to go to the bathroom. Feeling frustrated and grouchy, she heaved herself to her feet and waddled off to the area that had been designated as the ladies' room. When she was finished, she began to walk back to the area on the beach that she considered "hers."

Her entire body seized up and stopped dead when the trees and bushes immediately to her right rustled. Images flashed through her mind of huge monsters with blood dripping from their fangs and of boars with foot-long tusks… she tried to scream but her throat muscles were refusing to work, as were her legs. She stayed as she was, paralyzed with fear, until the rustling stopped. A huge sigh escaped her and she took a step towards safety, towards the camp.

A dark silhouette came crashing out of the jungle and tumbled to the ground at Claire's feet. She gasped loudly, staring in shock at the figure before her. At the sound, it rolled to its back and stared up at her fearfully. Its chest heaved with exertion and its face shone with sweat.

Claire gaped for a moment, seeing but not believing. When she regained control of her muscles an instant later, she dropped to her knees. "Charlie?!"

It was indeed the Englishman. His gaze lost its fearfulness when his eyes were able to focus on her face and he sat up slowly. "Claire, why are you here?" His voice was rougher and deeper than usual, unless that was Claire's memory playing tricks on her.

Claire frowned. "This is the beach, Charlie. Why are _you_ here?"

"The beach?" Charlie repeated, looking around himself in confusion. His eyes took in the small pieces of plane wreckage littered about, the seemingly infinite ocean, and the endless miles of sand along the shore. When he looked back at Claire, she appeared concerned. He quickly thought of an excuse and delivered it flawlessly with a little half-smile and a shrug. "Must have been sleepwalking."

That, of course, did not explain why his shirt was soaked with sweat or why his eyes were glazed over or why the slightest noise made him jump.

"Charlie, are you all right? Do you feel ill or–" Claire started.

"I'm fine," Charlie said tightly. "I just got lost, is all."

"You're a long way from your camp," she pointed out gently.

"Why aren't you asleep, anyway?" Charlie asked, glaring at her. He was eager to steer the topic away from himself as quickly as possible.

"The little one isn't in tune with my sleep cycle," Claire replied, giggling as she patted her stomach. For some reason the sound grated unpleasantly against Charlie's ears and he grimaced. His head was pounding and he rubbed his temples in an attempt to ward off some of the pain. Claire reached out to put her hand on his knee. "Charlie, are you sure you're not sick? I could get Sayid; he's got some medicine…"

"No!" Charlie hissed, his voice vehement. Claire's eyes widened and she pulled away from him quickly. Charlie forced his voice to sound gentler when he said, "Just… no. Claire, you know I'm not supposed to be here. Sayid would never help me. I have to go back to my camp now."

"Can you make it? By yourself, I mean?" Claire asked.

"Of course. I'm not an invalid, Claire," Charlie spat. He scrambled to his feet and started going back into the jungle, pausing only when he heard a slight groan. Upon turning around, he saw Claire struggling to get up with nothing to grab on to for help. Charlie walked back to her and put his arms around her, helping her stand up.

"All right then, are you?"

"Yeah," Claire nodded, giving him a smile. Her forehead creased then and her voice came out softer. "Charlie, you'll be careful, won't you?"

Charlie paused. He knew she meant for him to be careful of the… thing… or whatever was out there… but he didn't fear that. He only feared himself, especially at night. Now that his mind was clear, he could recall his earlier purpose. His eyes lingered on the inky black sea where the moonlight was reflected in it like a glittering diamond. It would be only too easy to throw himself in and end it all…

"Charlie?" Claire prompted, her voice a breath of fresh air jolting him back to his senses.

Charlie shook his head to clear his thoughts and forced a smile, just for Claire. "Yeah, of course. You go get some rest now, Claire."

"Thank you, Charlie. It was nice to see you," Claire said.

It was painful to look at Claire's honest smile, so Charlie turned his head away. Claire watched him walk off until the trees and the darkness swallowed him up. Then she returned to her place, where she had a chair to sit on during the day and a pile of clothes to use as a pillow at night. When she lay her head down, her eyelids began to droop as her mind raced.

Seeing Charlie was both a pleasant and unpleasant surprise. She hadn't seen him in –how long had it been? Two weeks? Three? – too long, in any case. She missed his humor and the way he actually looked her in the eye when they spoke together. Claire hated that the survivors had split up so completely.

It happened about a week after the crash. Jack had been arguing with a few others had been arguing over where to set up a more permanent camp. The clearheaded doctor thought they should go into the jungle where he had found the caves and fresh water. Sawyer was the loudest dissenter, voicing the thoughts of many when he said they needed to stay on the beach for the rescuers to see their signal fire. He found an unlikely ally in Sayid. After a few days, the arguments grew in volume until the survivors finally split.

Jack led a group of eighteen, including Locke, Charlie, Boone, and Hurley, into the jungle to set up a camp near the water. Kate followed after an argument with Sawyer about the doctor. The remaining 27 people who still held out hope for a rescue stayed with Sayid and Sawyer. Claire was one who stayed on the beach, as were Shannon, Michael, Walt, Rose, and the Korean couple, who were indifferent to the arguments. As the days passed and no rescue came, Claire began to regret her decision, but bad feelings left by the argument resulted in a rivalry between the two camps. The bruise on Sawyer's face was the result of a chance meeting with Boone in the jungle, and bad words had been shared between others who met people from the opposite camp. Claire doubted she could convince anyone to move to the other camp with her, and she didn't want to go alone. The jungle frightened her.

Just before dropping off into a peaceful slumber Claire thought of Charlie and wondered when she might see him again. Maybe, if he ever came to the beach again, she could go back to the jungle camp with him.

When Charlie woke up the next morning, he was facedown in the sand at the opening of the cave where camp had been set up. His head still hurt and he couldn't remember anything about the previous night. He sat up slowly, rubbing the sand out of the scruffy beard he had accumulated. He blinked a few times, trying to let his eyes adjust to the light, and found Locke sitting in front of him, offering a banana. Charlie's stomach turned at the thought of food and he made a face of disgust.

"How do you feel, Charlie?" Locke asked, though the answer should have been obvious from the look on Charlie's face.

"Like shite," he admitted. "What time is it?"

Locke squinted up at the sky. "Judging from the sun, about ten in the morning. You are a heavy sleeper." Charlie didn't want to admit that he had passed out, not fallen asleep, so he let Locke go on thinking that. "Eat this. You'll feel better with something in your stomach."

Reluctantly, Charlie leaned against the cave wall and took the fruit. "Where is everyone else?"

"Jack and Kate are searching the luggage for more medicine. A small group went to find more fruit and Boone is getting firewood," Locke answered. He paused for a moment, watching Charlie peel the banana and take a bite. "You were out late last night."

Charlie frowned as memory began to trickle back to him in snippets. He could recall laying in the cave, tossing and turning for an hour before getting up… trying to fight off the craving… losing… running through the jungle to escape the inner demons plaguing him… and ending up at the beach. He glanced back at Locke, who seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

"Yeah, I reckon I was," he answered. Suddenly a new thought came to him, stronger than the others. Claire's face, barely discernable in the darkness of night, was plastered on the inside of his eyelids, smiling at him.

"What were you looking for?" Locke asked.

"Her," Charlie replied, his eyes closed and his head leaned back against the uneven surface of the cave wall. He hadn't realized what he said until after it left his lips, and his head jerked up as he opened his mouth to correct his statement. Locke was looking at him calmly. As usual, he didn't question Charlie's somewhat odd behavior, and the younger man relaxed, knowing no judgment would come from Locke. It was nice to have someone to lean on during his painful withdrawal from heroin, he thought.

"Did she help?" Locke asked.

Charlie nodded. Locke looked away, his eyes seeing something Charlie would never glimpse. When he looked back, Charlie had to hastily wipe away a tear that had mysteriously appeared on his face.

"My son became addicted to cocaine when he was fifteen years old," Locke said suddenly. Charlie looked at him in surprise; it was the first time Locke had revealed anything about his past to Charlie. "We sent him to a rehabilitation center, and when he came back we thought everything was fine. Then I found another bag of it in his room. I dragged him out to the car and threw him in the passenger side to take him back to the center. His mother was in the backseat. We argued all the way there until he suddenly reached over and grabbed the wheel. He turned the car into oncoming traffic. He and my wife were killed instantly." Charlie didn't notice how Locke rubbed his leg and moved his toes as he spoke. He was concentrating on Locke's face, where in his eyes was a far-off look Charlie had never seen in them before.

Locke met his eyes for a second and nodded at the jungle. "This place has a special quality to it. There's something very beautiful about the jungle. If there's something out there that can help you, why are you sitting here?" The old man stood up and walked away without so much as a backward glance.

Charlie considered the statement. Subconsciously, had he really been looking for Claire that night, not a way to end his pain? How could he expect her to help him with his problems when she quite obviously had enough to worry about for herself? Charlie didn't even like being around himself, why should she?

Despite these doubts, Charlie still found himself rising to his feet and striding into the jungle.

-----  
**To Be Continued…**


	2. Found

**Across Enemy Lines**

**by Dreamality**

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

**-----  
Chapter Two:**

Finding his way back to the beach camp proved harder than Charlie had anticipated. He didn't want to follow any paths that had been beaten by past hikers for fear of meeting Sawyer, or any of the others from the beach camp, on his way. His body had been weakened by the stress of crashing on the island and running out of heroin, and Charlie had no doubt that the redneck could take him on with no trouble at all.

So Charlie beat his own path, or tried to, in the general direction of the beach. Now that he was actually concentrating on where he was going rather than relying on instinct, as he had the previous night, he found that he doubted himself at every turn. He kept doubling back to try a different way and confusing himself. Just when he thought he would never reach his destination, he caught a glimpse of the glittering blue ocean between the trees and hurried towards it.

Peering out from behind his hiding place, which consisted of a few bushes with large leaves, Charlie discovered that he had ended up at the far end of the camp, away from the main area. That was good. At first he didn't see anyone, which was both a worry and a relief. Then Claire came into view from behind a piece of the plane and Charlie's throat closed up. He watched her silently as she walked along the beach and waded into the calm ocean. She dipped the shirt she carried in her hands into the ocean and then wrung it out.

Charlie waited until she left the ocean and sat down heavily on the shore to make his presence known. He cleared his throat as loudly as he could and rustled the bush slightly. Claire jumped and looked around in fear until her eyes landed on the face of a young man amongst the bushes. He was beckoning to her, so she rose and went to him, her face awash with relief.

"Hello, Charlie," she greeted. "Sleepwalking again, are you?"

Charlie laughed a little, though it was a hollow laugh. "Are you busy just now, Claire?"

The woman shrugged. "Nope. There's not much around here for a woman like me to do."

"Can you come with me, then?" Charlie asked hopefully. Claire agreed and he led her just a little way into the jungle until they reached a small clearing. He helped her sit down against a tree with a somewhat smooth trunk then sat across from her against the rougher trunk of a palm tree. Now that he was actually at his destination and with Claire, he wasn't sure how to begin, or even what he had come here looking for. Lucky for him, Claire opened the conversation.

"Are you really all right, Charlie? You worried me last night. And you're so pale now. You're sure you're not ill?" Claire asked, reaching forward without thinking to feel his forehead.

The anger flashed up before Charlie could stop it. Scowling, he jerked back and snarled, "I'm not ill!"

Just for an instant, Claire looked hurt. Then her forehead smoothed and her smile returned. "Sorry. It's these blasted maternal instincts, ya know? Anyway, I suppose with someone like Jack around, it'd be hard to get sick, huh?"

Charlie sighed. Suddenly he was disgusted with himself for bringing this upon Claire, for introducing her to even more evil. He knew he should just get up and walk away, but he found himself opening his big fat mouth anyway.

"Claire, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Charlie said. Claire looked at him in surprise and bewilderment.

"For what, Charlie?"

"For bothering you," Charlie answered, his voice tight with pain and self-loathing. "I didn't want to bring you into this." He paused and closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. When his eyes reopened, Claire was struck by the force in them. "There are a lot of things in my life I didn't want to do and did anyway."

"Charlie," Claire said softly, and he looked at her with an expression so forlorn she thought her heart might break. "I don't know very much about you, but I do know that you're a good person–"

Charlie laughed bitterly. "It's nice of you to think so, Claire. I hate to burst your sweet little bubble, but if you knew the truth… you would be afraid to be alone with me."

Claire said nothing. She looked at Charlie with an expressionless face, waiting for him to explain. Charlie looked at her innocent face and felt his black, withered heart give a strange twinge, as if it were capable of feeling something other than pain again. Before he knew what he was doing, Charlie had taken a deep breath and plunged into the whole story, spilling everything out to Claire.

He told her about Drive Shaft and was only vaguely disappointed that she didn't recognize the name. Fame no longer mattered on a deserted island. She listened to him intently as he described their transgression from garage band to kings of rock, then their sudden and rapid decline in popularity. The petty arguments and constant fights made Charlie and most of the other members of the band look for release elsewhere. For Charlie, it was the nightclubs where drugs were passed out freely. Heroin became his new best friend, and rather than the natural rush of adrenaline he got on stage, Charlie lived on the artificial rush his new friend gave him.

Then there was the island and the constant fear of running out. Trading Locke his drugs for his guitar had seemed, at the moment, the perfect way to escape the fear. He had forgotten the effects of withdrawal he had witnessed in his own friends. When it began –the puking, the sleeplessness, the constant cravings– he nearly killed Locke just to get the drugs back. When Locke "accidentally" dropped the bag and the heroin mixed into the sand, Charlie had snorted dirt in desperation.

"It hurts, Claire. All the time," Charlie admitted. His eyes were closed again, and Claire suspected he wasn't totally aware of what he was doing or where he was. She was surprised he remembered her name, because at that moment he seemed so far into the recesses of his mind Claire felt he might never return. His foot twitched out spasmodically, as if he were kicking something, every few moments. His flesh was raised in goose bumps, yet his skin was soaked with sweat.

The person that sat before Claire was not the sweet, funny man who had sat by her when she was dying of thirst. He was not the charming man who'd leapt up to help her carry a heavy load. This man was only a shadow of the other Charlie. A broken image, as if Claire were looking into a cracked mirror at his reflection. It hurt her to look at him, yet it drew her to him. With only some difficulty, Claire slid on the sand until she was beside Charlie rather than across. Her hand reached out to take his. It was cold and clammy, and he did not react to the touch.

"Are you cold, Charlie?" Claire asked when he shivered slightly. Charlie turned his head away, his face contorted in a grimace of pain.

"I can feel it now. Beneath my muscles. Inside my bones. It just… hurts." Charlie's voice was low and rough and he almost sounded choked. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly to ward off the tears that had somehow snuck up on him.

"Isn't there anything that can help you? Anything to lessen the pain?" Claire asked softly.

"My guitar, sometimes. When my hands aren't shaking too badly to play it. But it gets worst at night, and I can't play when everyone's asleep. Locke helps me, he listens to me, but he's so… out there. I just can't connect with him," Charlie answered.

"What about Jack? Boone? Kate? Isn't there anyone you can turn to?" Claire pressed.

Charlie raised his head and looked her in the eyes. One word fell from his lips, hitting Claire so hard even the baby inside of her jumped. "You." With a sigh, he added, "But you live here. And I live there."

"Well then, I'll just have to go back with you," Claire stated simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Charlie looked at her, his eyes sad and doubtful.

"I'm sorry, love, but I just don't think that would be a good idea. It's a long way for someone in your condition to walk," Charlie said. Claire's gaze hardened and for the first time since Charlie had met her, a frown crossed her face. Charlie's leg kicked out again and the ache inside him intensified.

"You don't think I can make it?" she asked defensively. "Charlie, I want to help you. I don't like to see you hurting so badly. I want to make it better."

Charlie shook his head. "I know you can. I just can't ask you to. This place is dangerous, Claire. There's something out there that isn't too friendly. If it ever came across us, I can run, but you… Claire, if something ever happened to you and it was my fault… you're just safer here."

"Safe," Claire repeated with a little laugh that suggested she doubted the validity of the word. "I thought Australia was safe. I was wrong. I thought I would be safe on the plane. I was wrong. I thought staying on the beach would be safe. Now I'm not so sure. When the baby comes, who'll be here to help me?"

Charlie's eyes fell on her stomach, where her hands rested. He recalled her previous words about being a "time bomb of responsibility" and worried that her words would ring true in too short a time. Charlie looked back at her face and said, "But you'll be fine, won't you, Claire? I mean, women give birth to babies in their homes, and before hospitals it was all sort of a natural process, right? Why should there be any problems?"

Claire sensed his need for reassurance and his sudden, desperate worry. Even though she was tired of being positive and bubbly, Claire forced a smile onto her face for Charlie. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. I'll be fine." There was a pause, then she said, "Charlie, if the jungle is so dangerous, you shouldn't come back and forth like this."

"Sometimes, like last night, I couldn't help it," Charlie admitted. With a small smile, he said, "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No!" Claire exclaimed a little too passionately. Charlie frowned and she sighed. "Sorry. It's these hormones. Make me a little loopy, if you know what I mean."

Charlie wasn't so sure he did know. There was something beneath her outcry that Claire wasn't sharing. A silence fell over the two of them, with nothing but the rustling of leaves and the lapping of the waves against the shore to be heard. Claire began to relax and leaned against Charlie a little bit, resting her head against the tree behind them. He envied her for her ability to relax while his nerves made him tense and agitated.

Claire suddenly gasped and sat up, her hands pressing to the sides of her stomach. Charlie sat up, too, looking at her fearfully until she laughed and leaned back on the tree again.

"I can tell you're going to be a football fan, just like your father," she said to her stomach. "Do I have a little David Beckham, Jr. in there?"

"Claire…" She looked at him expectantly. Charlie hesitated a moment, then asked the question burning through his mind. "If you don't mind my asking… where's the father?"

Claire was used to such questions, and had actually been expecting someone to ask long before this. Her lips pursed and she exhaled sharply before looking at Charlie. "He's back in Australia."

"You're so far along, why would you leave for America?" Charlie asked. He cursed himself for being nosy, but Claire didn't seem to mind.

"I was running away," she admitted. "I fell in love with Thomas, that's the father's name, when I was very young. He was dating another girl, and when they broke up I stepped in to help him. We didn't plan this pregnancy, but when it happened he was very supportive. At first."

Claire paused, taking a moment to collect herself before continuing. The pain was fresh in her mind, and it was evident to Charlie that telling her story was difficult. He admired her courage and wondered why she trusted him, of all people, to tell it to.

"Then the other girl, the one he'd dated before me, came back. Thomas was torn. She was his first love, and now I was the mother of his child. He didn't know what to do at first, but I knew what he was going to decide as soon as she came back into his life. Thomas was a very nice man, very gentlemanly, and he was very opposed to going back to her when I first suggested it. But I insisted, and off he went. We parted as friends; there was no bad blood between us. But it still hurt me to see him. We were in a small town and I would see them whenever I went to the store or just out of my house, it seemed. So I decided to leave."

"Why America?" Charlie asked. "Especially LA, of all places. It's not the most welcoming place in the world."

"I know. My sister went there when she decided to become an actress. She didn't have much luck acting, but she does all right modeling, and she invited me to move in with her," Claire replied.

"What did Thomas think when he found out you were leaving?" Charlie asked. He was intrigued by this woman and her story, and concentrating on her gave him reason to ignore the cravings and the pain. Even for just these few precious moments, he could feel normal and free from the drugs.

"I never told him," Claire confessed. "I sent him a letter the day I left, giving him my sister's address. Now he probably thinks me –and his baby– are dead."

"You miss him, don't you?" Charlie asked quietly.

"Of course. I loved him. But I realize he could never let go of his first girlfriend, and no matter what he could never love me as he loved her," Claire whispered sadly.

"He must have been a crazy git, then," Charlie said. Claire looked at him and smiled. He grinned in response, and for a moment their eyes locked and Charlie felt as though he might stay there forever.

"Claire!"

Their moment was interrupted by the shout. They both looked up quickly, surprised. Motioning for her to stay put, Charlie crawled forward to the edge of the jungle where he looked for the source of the voice. Sayid was on the beach, walking along and calling her name every few steps. Charlie went back to Claire and helped her up, urging her to go.

"Will I see you again soon?" Claire asked hopefully.

"I'll try. I'll come tomorrow, at the same time and at the same place," Charlie answered.

"Be careful, Charlie. Get straight back to your own camp, and if it's not safe, don't try to come back," Claire said quietly, holding on to Charlie's hands tightly. He nodded, giving her an unspoken promise.

"Go on. I'll be fine," he assured her. She looked at him for a moment more, then let go of his hands and walked through the trees towards the beach, following Sayid's voice.

"Yes? I'm here, Sayid," she called. Sayid turned around quickly and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her.

"Claire. There you are. The camp was worried when we noticed you were missing. We thought something had happened. Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," Claire answered quickly. "I just went for a little walk to try to settle the baby down."

"In the jungle? Claire, that is not especially wise when you can't move very fast…" Sayid began.

"Sayid, have you ever been pregnant?" Claire interrupted.

Sayid stopped, startled by the question. "Of course not. Why would you ask…?"

"Well then allow me to explain something. Babies like to kick and move around, my baby especially. Sometimes he kicks certain things in my body that send me running off into the jungle to take care of business. Shall I tell you every time that happens so you don't worry about me, or shall we just agree that I can take care of myself as long as I stay close to the beach?" Claire asked, a little bit sarcastically.

Sayid laughed. "I'm sorry, Claire. You are right. Forgive me for seeming so protective. Now, a few of the men have caught some fish. If you're hungry, you can come help yourself to some."

Claire followed Sayid down the main part of camp, staying a step or two behind him. When his eyes were focused elsewhere, she snuck a glance back towards the jungle where she had just left Charlie. She thought she saw a pair of eyes looking at her and perhaps a glimpse of dark blonde hair, but when she blinked it was gone, so she couldn't be sure. Claire sent up a silent prayer for Charlie's safety and went with Sayid to get a bite to eat.

Charlie hurried through the jungle, taking no certain path. Now that Claire was gone, now that he was alone with himself and his addiction, the demons were back. They overpowered his thoughts, making him think only of heroin and the sweet release it brought him from pain and suffering. His body called for it, his mind needed it. His chest felt tight, and he knew if he could just get his drugs back he would be able to breathe easy again.

Every few feet, Charlie had to stop to catch his breath. His legs hurt so badly he wasn't sure if he would be able to make it back to the camp by the caves. His arms ached, too, as did his head, his stomach, and his back. When a small, unseen creature ran through the bushes behind Charlie, he sprinted forward until he tripped and fell onto the ground. His stomach turned and he vomited onto the jungle floor. For a moment his whole body felt as though it were on fire, until it switched suddenly to being colder than ice.

Charlie couldn't remember where he was going anymore. He had pushed the craving away for too long, and now it was back tenfold. He didn't want to get up, but something in the back of his mind told him he had to. There was somewhere he needed to be, some promise he had to keep, he just couldn't remember what it was.

As he lay there on the jungle floor, vomit dribbling off his chin and a sick smell in the air, a gentle voice floated to him. He thought it must be a hallucination; perhaps another side effect of withdrawal was insanity, but when the words were clearer, they calmed him and gave him the strength to stand up.

"Charlie, I want to help you. I don't like to see you hurting so badly. I want to make it better…"

"Be careful, Charlie. Get straight back to your own camp."

"Okay," Charlie said to the pretty voice. He started walking again, even though he just wanted to curl up and die. When bile rose in his throat again he had to pause to throw up, and as soon as he was done he continued again. He walked for days, he walked for weeks, he walked for an eternity and he never found the place he had promised to go to.

The last thing Charlie saw before everything went dark was a pretty face framed by soft blonde waves and lighted by a bright, white smile.

"Charlie, you need to get up now."

Locke was kneeling beside Charlie. When his eyelids lifted to reveal glazed-over blue eyes, Locke smiled. After helping Charlie sit up, he lifted a bottle to the younger man's lips and let him drink a few sips of cold, fresh water.

"Did you find her?" Locke asked.

Charlie's lips curled upward in a smile. "Yeah."

-----  
**To Be Continued…**

**Author's Note:** Thank you to all who have been so kind as to review my story. Personal replies can be found in the review section.

**For those interested:** I pulled this off the Internet:

**"**Withdrawal, which in regular abusers may occur as early as a few hours after the last administration, produces drug craving, restlessness, muscle and bone pain, insomnia, diarrhea and vomiting, cold flashes with goose bumps ("cold turkey"), kicking movements ("kicking the habit"), and other symptoms. Major withdrawal symptoms peak between 48 and 72 hours after the last dose and subside after about a week. Sudden withdrawal by heavily dependent users who are in poor health is occasionally fatal, although heroin withdrawal is considered less dangerous than alcohol or barbiturate withdrawal.**"** –National Institute on Drug Abuse, drugabuse "dot" gov

I tried to be as accurate as possible, but artistic license allows for some dramatization or inaccuracies.


	3. Losing

**Across Enemy Lines**

**by**** Dreamality**

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

**-----**

**Chapter Three:**

The sunlight glinted off the glass face of the watch on Claire's wrist when she glanced at it, making her squint. She tilted it until it was readable and was disappointed to find that only seven minutes had passed since the last time she had looked at it. She rested her hand on her stomach and looked out at the beach and the sea, taking note of what everyone was doing. She knew Sawyer was off in the jungle with a few others trying to hunt down some fresh meat. Sayid was in the ocean fishing, Shannon was lying on the beach, and the others were spread out doing various activities.

No one was watching Claire. No one ever watched her, except to stare at her stomach. She was free to move wherever she wanted, and no one ever noticed until much later. When she looked at her watch again, her heart jumped when she realized it was finally time. Hauling herself to her feet, she walked along the beach barefoot, towards the place Charlie had appeared to her on the previous day.

Claire knew that what she was feeling for Charlie was wrong on so many levels. Her excitement and anticipation for seeing him again was too much, too soon. She barely knew him, first of all, and second of all, he was a "bad boy." Not the type to bring home to mum, that was for sure. (A little voice in Claire's head reminded her that home was a long, long ways away, and Claire smiled briefly) A member of a rock band, a recovering drug addict, it all added up to one disturbed young man who Claire should not even consider getting involved with.

Still, as cliché as it sounded, Claire couldn't help but feel that he was a bad boy with heart. If Charlie cared enough to ask her for help, it looked as if he wanted to get better. He seemed to be a victim of circumstances. After all, what little boy didn't dream of being a rock star, and once that was achieved, how could he be expected to resist the lifestyle? Claire only hoped she might be able to help him through this difficult period in his life. Perhaps once it was over they might be able to build some semblance of a normal life together out of the ashes of their past lives.

When she reached the area where Charlie had appeared the previous day, she entered the jungle cautiously, calling his name softly. No reply came. She paused, scanning the thick vegetation with narrowed eyes for any sign of him.

"Charlie!" she hissed. "Are you out there?"

Nothing. Claire waited for a few moments, still desperately hoping that Charlie would come. When she didn't hear or see anything, no movement or stirring leaves or footsteps, she heaved a little sigh and turned away. As she walked along the sand at the very edge of the jungle, she was unaware of the pair of eyes watching her. She almost screamed when a hand extended from a bush and grabbed her arm, until she turned her head and saw Charlie's face. With a smile she followed him into the jungle.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, but I almost ran into Sawyer on the way and I didn't want him to hear me," Charlie apologized. They found their clearing again and sat beside each other. Claire looked at him with concern as she noted his heavy breathing and slightly glazed eyes. He glanced at her and tried to smile, but it turned out more like a grimace.

"Is it worse today, Charlie?" she asked.

He nodded. "Drug addicts are usually not hikers, especially ones who are going through withdrawal." He stopped to swallow hard and closed his eyes to block out the bright, burning sun. "Distract me?"

Claire thought for a second, then picked up Charlie's hand and began to rub it gently. "Last night I had the strangest dream. I was on a plane and everything was fine, then suddenly we hit some major turbulence and the plane came apart. Somehow, I survived and lived on a deserted island with a bunch of strangers."

Charlie laughed a little bit. "Funny, I had the same dream."

"Sayid keeps saying that it's only a matter of days until someone shows up. I don't believe him anymore. I've heard people talking –no one really talks to me if they can help it– and supposedly Jack said that we were a thousand miles off course when we crashed. No one will look for us here," Claire sighed.

"Now that's not being very positive," Charlie reprimanded teasingly. His breath was still ragged and he paused for breath often as he spoke. It looked to Claire as if breathing was difficult for him and she wished she knew some way to make it better. To compensate she continued talking if only just to take his mind off the pain.

"But we both know it's true. You knew it enough to get out of here and go with Jack. Kate figured it out, obviously. She started here on the beach and then went into the jungle with Jack. She gave up. I'm not scared anymore about not being rescued. Whatever happens will happen, right?"

"Que sera, sera," Charlie sang, off-key and weak.

Claire smiled anyway. "Whatever will be, will be. I like that song. It's so positive."

"Like you."

"I guess," Claire muttered. When Charlie looked at her oddly, she sighed and explained, "Sometimes being positive and happy is tiring. I want to just give up and be a pessimist, but I don't want to be so negative for my baby. I think negative energy affects him, kind of like a karma sort of thing."

"You don't have to be like that around me," Charlie said. He lifted his chin off his chest and looked at Claire with dead, haunted eyes. His face was very pale, except for the circles under his eyes that were like bruises on his otherwise unblemished face. He looked old, withered, and too thin underneath his dirty clothes. As usual, the mother in Claire began to fret.

"Have you been eating, Charlie?" she asked.

"I just throw it up," Charlie mumbled, his head lolling to the side once more.

"What about sleeping? You look exhausted." Charlie shook his head. Claire moved closer to him and put her arm around his thin shoulders, guiding his head to rest on her shoulder. He let himself relax against her, not having the strength in him to fight or protest. He could feel her stomach against his side, and when the baby moved he felt it, too. It made him feel oddly within and his heart made a strange move that had nothing to do with drugs.

"Try to rest, Charlie. You'll be safe here," Claire assured him.

"I don't want to be like this, Claire. I don't want you to think of me like this," Charlie said miserably. Claire shushed him and began to rub his back slowly and gently, as her mother had done for her when she was sick as a girl. At first, Charlie kept his eyes wide open, thinking that despite her kind efforts he would never sleep in that position. Then his eyelids began to feel heavier, his breathing calmed and deepened, and suddenly he was out like a light.

Even after she knew he was sound asleep, Claire's hand continued rubbing his back. She stared off into space, her eyes not focusing on anything in particular as she sang something under her breath. Deep in her heart, Claire knew that falling in love with Charlie should be the very last thing on her "to do" list. Yet she couldn't stop the thoughts in her head that kept telling her that he _needed_ her to love him and somehow, she needed him to love her back.

The position they were in was not horrible romantic or even comfortable. Both of them were sweaty, and the lack of deodorant did not help matters. Claire's lower back ached and it felt like they were leaning on the most uncomfortable tree in the jungle. After awhile, the arm Claire had wrapped around Charlie went completely numb. Conditions were not ripe for love to blossom, yet…

"I love you, Charlie," Claire murmured before she herself fell asleep.

"Claire? Claire, you okay? Um, are you, like… alive?"

Claire's eyes opened slowly and she had to blink a few times until she could focus on her surroundings. When she saw the treetops above her she was confused for a second, until the cloud of sleep faded from her mind and she remembered falling asleep against Charlie. She was surprised, to say the very least, when it was not Charlie's face leaning over her but Shannon's. Claire frowned. "Huh? What did you say?"

"Oh, you're awake. What were you doing out here in the jungle?" Shannon demanded, her eyes narrow in both accusation and inquisition.

Claire's mind quickly thought of an excuse. "It's cooler in here than on the beach, and much more comfortable. I guess I just sat down and fell asleep." Her eyes darted around, wondering what on earth had happened to Charlie.

"If you ask me, it's not a very smart thing to do, sleeping in the jungle when you can't even move very much. I mean, just as I got here, there was something out in those bushes moving around. You're really lucky I scared it off before it found you," Shannon scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest and tossed her hair. "You'd better come back with me and stop wandering off." Shannon turned around and strode towards the beach.

Claire used the tree to pull herself to her feet and trudged after Shannon. She glanced over her shoulder at the thick trees and vegetation a few times, wondering if Charlie was still watching or if he had already run off. When she looked back at Shannon and found the girl staring unabashedly at her stomach with something like fear in her eyes, Claire considered running after him and never coming back.

Claire awoke new emotions for Charlie; emotions he used to think had long since been dead within him. Sometimes it frightened him, but for the most part the feelings he had towards her were soothing and peaceful and made him feel as though all was right in his world. At first he was sure he was imagining these things, until he went to her for the third day in a row. The moment he saw her he smiled a genuine smile, something he hadn't done since the day Locke had taken his drugs. She smiled, too, full and bright, and surprised him by greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. 

"How are you today, Charlie?" Claire asked, her hand resting on his cheek for a moment, then his shoulder as she surveyed him. His face still looked pale and drawn, but his eyes had lost a little bit of their deadness and had just the faintest glimmer of light back in them.

"Better." The word popped out without Charlie's consent. When he realized what he had just said, he had to pause and think about it for a moment. Then he added, "I mean… I'm not… it can't be fixed in a few days, but… I'm getting there."

"I'd hoped you might say something like that. Did you make it home all right yesterday?" Claire asked as he helped her ease onto the sandy floor.

Charlie smirked a little at the word "home." How odd that he might consider the place that had almost killed him a _home_, but after considering it he couldn't remember what a real home felt like. Then, in answer to Claire's initial question, he nodded. "I heard someone tramping through the trees and ran off before anyone could find me. Sorry I had to leave you like that, love."

Claire waved off his apology. The baby gave a particularly hard kick then, making her frown and wince. Her hand moved to rub the spot on her stomach until the pain subsided and she closed her eyes and tried to rest her head against the tree trunk behind her only to be disturbed a second later by another kick. Charlie watched in concerned silence as she grimaced and tried to calm the child within by rubbing her stomach in firm circles. For the first time, Charlie noticed that Claire looked tired, with her eyes bloodshot and accented by shadows beneath them.

"Is something wrong, Claire?" Charlie asked hesitantly. She looked at him and smiled, though it seemed strained. He was well familiar with such smiles, having forced so many of them in his own life.

"Oh no, I'm fine, Charlie. I just didn't sleep very well last night is all. The baby didn't feel like settling down," Claire answered.

"How about you try having a bit of a kip, then? You can lean on me, if you like," Charlie offered.

"Thank you, Charlie, but he's still moving around in there. I won't be able to sleep," Claire explained, looking down at her stomach with just a tinge of frustration in her voice.

"So your sleep cycle revolves around him? You have no say in it?" Charlie asked, frowning in a sympathetic sort of way.

Claire shrugged. "If there was a rocking chair on this island, that would help. Sometimes if I take a little walk he quiets down."

Charlie jumped up and offered her a hand. "Then perhaps a stroll through the enchanted jungle is in order?"

Claire allowed him to pull her to her feet and lead her between the trees along an imaginary path. He stayed close to the beach, yet far enough in that anyone on the beach wouldn't be able to see them. Claire hated that he had to hide like a criminal, but she knew huge problems would arise if he was found by someone like Sawyer, armed with his volatile temper. They moved slowly and Charlie kept one arm around her waist for support, which Claire appreciated more than she could say.

Both of them froze when the distant sound of crashing trees, as if a large animal was moving through them, met their ears. They exchanged a glance, neither wanting to voice their fears. The sound was far enough away to ignore, yet close enough to cause alarm. Charlie's grip on her tightened slightly in a protective way and, without thinking, Claire grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"You should go back," he said.

"I don't want to leave you," Claire admitted.

"I know."

They stood as if frozen in time for a moment, their eyes locked. Charlie thought they must look like a photograph from the cover of a cheesy romance novel, with their tropical background and torn, ragged clothing. Yet there was nothing cheesy in the way the light filtering through the canopy of trees highlighted Claire's hair, or in the way her eyes held both innocence and wisdom within their deep blue depths, or in the way her touch on his hand was sending tingles along his arm and down his spine. Charlie's hand rose slowly to brush a curl away from her face and she caught his hand in her grasp, lacing their fingers together.

"Claire," Charlie murmured, his deep, rough voice sending a rush of heat to her cheeks. "If I were to kiss you right now, how hard would you slap me afterwards?"

"It depends how good the kiss is," she answered softly. She meant to say it as a joke but her voice came out deadly serious.

"Is that a challenge?" Charlie asked. Claire smiled and said nothing.

The gap between Charlie's mouth and Claire's was easily closed. Her mouth was soft and warm and nothing like any girl Charlie had ever kissed in the past. There was no aggressive tongue trying to invade his mouth, no bitter taste of old beer or liquor, no lingering scent of marijuana or bitter taste of cocaine. There was only the scent of woman and the scent of Claire, and Charlie thought he could live off of that for the rest of his life. Her hands didn't grope at his clothes and his body and she didn't fall apart at his touch. It was, in a way, humbling that she didn't look at him as a rock god, and still empowering because of the heady feeling that accompanied the kiss.

Perhaps the kiss lasted only seconds or perhaps it lasted an eternity. Either way, it all came crashing down very quickly when the dreaded sound penetrated their consciousness, suddenly much closer and far more threatening.

Without thinking, Charlie tore his lips from hers and began to run, but not alone. His arm stayed firmly around her waist and he did not take a step without first making sure that she was still with him. They tore through the jungle, Charlie half pulling and half carrying Claire back towards the camp, where she would be safe. The thing, the monster, the creature, the animal, whatever it was, seemed to be right on top of them, yet a hurried glance over her shoulder revealed nothing of its shape to Claire. There was definitely something, but all she could make out was a shadow moving through the trees, tearing down anything that got in its way and did not yield immediately.

Charlie took Claire through the jungle, past their little clearing, to the edge of camp. Claire clung to him for just an instant, trying to convey to him with her eyes what her mouth couldn't say. He gave her a little push and she turned away, emerging into camp from the bushes. The people on the beach had heard the commotion and were panicking, and as Charlie watched he feared no one would remember the pregnant lady. In another instant he was going to go get her himself and face Sawyer's wrath later, but just then one of the men saw her and went to her aide, allowing her to lean on him as they ran away from the unknown danger.

Now that he knew Claire was being taken care of, Charlie turned his attention to his own safety. He spun around and sprinted off into the jungle, running blindly only to put as much distance between him and the thing that could rip apart a full grown man and take down trees like they were twigs.

In the farthest reaches of his mind, the tiniest little part of Charlie was still riding high off the kiss, and between the panicked thoughts of _I'm going to die, I'm going to die, that thing is going to get me, I'll be a bloody corpse in five minutes if I don't run, I'm going to die out here _that were running through his head, a little voice occasionally whispered, _I kissed Claire, I kissed Claire, I kissed Claire…_

-----  
**To Be Continued…**

**Author's Note:** "Que Sera, Sera" sung by Doris Day and written by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans, belongs to them, not to me.

Once again, thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story. You are all very kind and encouraging! Personal reviews can be found in the review section. Thanks for reading!


	4. Prowler

**Across Enemy Lines**

**by**** Dreamality**

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

**-----**

**Chapter Four**

Locke was up when the sun rose nearly every day. So was Charlie, not because he was an early riser but because he no longer slept for more than a few hours every few days. The cravings kept him up until he was exhausted enough to pass out.

As he built up the fire that had gone down during the night, Locke watched Charlie sit against the wall of the cave, the hood of his jacket casting his face into shadow. It was hard to decipher his expression, whether it was worried, fearful, or just indifferent. After Locke had piled more firewood atop the embers, he walked over to Charlie and knelt in front of him.

"What happened yesterday?" he asked bluntly. He had seen Charlie return from his foray into the jungle with a look on his face that suggested he'd seen a ghost, or worse. He had gone straight to the stream to get a drink and wash his face, then went to the edge of their camp and sat with his back to the fire, his guitar in hand. Locke hadn't bothered him that night, wanting to give him a chance to catch his breath and reflect on whatever experiences he'd had, but now that it was morning he wanted to check on him.

Charlie glowered at Locke. He was obviously in the middle of a craving and his emotions were unpredictable. Locke wasn't afraid, but he was cautious. His muscles tensed, preparing to rise quickly and back away should Charlie choose to vent his frustrations on the one who had confiscated his drug.

"Bugger off," he muttered.

"Look, son, I'm only trying to help you," Locke said gently.

"I said, _bugger off_. I'm not in the mood for a bloody therapy session, thanks," Charlie hissed, his voice warning and threatening.

"Charlie, if something happened to you out there, you can tell me–"

"Piss off!" Charlie shouted, standing up quickly and marching past Locke to where his guitar was kept. Hurley and Jack, who had been cooking something over the fire, watched him with expressions of disbelief, then glanced questioningly at Locke. The old man sighed as he rose to his feet and watched Charlie grab his guitar case and carry it into the jungle. A few seconds later, they all heard his faint music.

"Is he all right, John?" Jack asked.

Locke looked at the doctor, his face expressionless. "He just needs a moment."

"Or maybe a shrink. What's he thinking, going off into the jungle all by himself? He's going to be snack food soon if he's not careful," Hurley commented. Jack laughed a little, but Locke was not amused. He frowned at Hurley for a moment before striding off in the direction Charlie had taken.

It was never hard to locate Charlie when he was near the camp. His guitar was his constant companion, and he played it for hours on end. Locke simply followed the sound of the music until he found Charlie sitting on a fallen tree, rocking back and forth with the music. Locke stayed silent, watching him from the shadows. He would play for a few seconds before hitting a sour note and stop. Sometimes he would utter a curse and sometimes he would just take a deep breath and start again. There was obviously something bothering him, something beyond the drugs.

When there was a lull in the music as Charlie's head drooped and he sat still, apparently lost in thought, Locke took the opportunity to come forward and sit beside him on the log. Charlie didn't react to his presence, and when Locke didn't say anything right away he just ignored him. His hands were trembling again, and there was a fire in his nerves. His foot was kicking again and icy sweat was pouring off his forehead in buckets.

_Blimey_, but he needed a hit. Just a little one, not too much, maybe he didn't even need to snort it. Just a little on his upper gum, just enough to relax him and let him just kick back for awhile. It would make dealing with his racing thoughts much easier. His mind would just go blank and everything would be blissful and he wouldn't have to worry about pregnant ladies with pretty smiles and soft lips and trusting eyes…

"What is it about the drug, Charlie?" Locke asked. He did not look at Charlie but instead studied the treetops that shaded them.

"Release," Charlie said. "I don't have to be anyone anymore. I don't have to live up to anyone's expectations."

"You think people rely on you too much?"

"People don't know what it's like. It's so glamorous, being a rock star. It's such a great life. I thought so, too, until I realized how much bloody work it is. People always around you, you never get a moment to yourself, and it's hard, damn it, it's bloody hard. The drugs make it easy." Charlie's eyes rolled back in his head and his whole body started to twitch. He wanted to die. He wanted it all to be over. He wanted his drugs.

"So it lets you run away," Locke commented casually.

"No!" Charlie snarled, his eyes flying open in indignation. "I don't run away! I'm not a pansy."

"Obviously you use the drugs to get away from your problems. That sounds like running away," Locke said.

"I don't run away from things. Don't talk to me like you know me, Locke. You don't know anything about me," Charlie spat.

"You're right, Charlie. I don't know anything about you, but that is not for lack of trying. You refuse to open up to me, and I understand that. But the last three days, you've been going somewhere and finding something or someone. Did you open up to her, or whoever she was?" Locke asked.

Locke's understanding and gentle patience irked Charlie for an inexplicable reason. He made an indecipherable noise and strummed the strings of his guitar again, trying to let loose a melody within him. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't play it right. There was something wrong with his fingers, his hands, his entire body. It was rebelling against him, causing him pain when he was doing something that should have been pleasurable. If he only had some of his drugs, he would be able to do it right. He would make beautiful music that the whole world would love, if only Locke hadn't taken his drugs.

"Something scared you away yesterday." Locke's words were a statement, not a question, but Charlie chose to interpret them as one anyway.

"No, I wasn't scared," he argued.

"It's all right to admit it, Charlie. No one's going to condemn you for being human here," Locke said.

"Shove off, Locke. Get off your damned soapbox," Charlie growled. He turned away from Locke slightly and tried to play the notes again. He messed up on only the third note, and a string of curses erupted from his mouth.

"You miss her," Locke commented.

Charlie froze, his entire body tensing up. A new craving rose up over the heroin craving and filled him with a need so immediate, so strong, that he felt like he might pass out. He remembered leaning against a soft, warm body. He remembered a soft voice soothing his ears, quieting the voices within. He remembered being touched by perfection and not cringing. He remembered the kiss. His shoulders shook and he curled up, hugging the guitar to him as he pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to stem the flood of emotion that was rising within him.

"_Shite_, John, I just want to be with her!" Charlie exclaimed suddenly. He felt a hand on his back that was oddly comforting.

"Why aren't you?" Locke inquired.

"That… that _thing_… it came up on us yesterday. It was so close, and she can't run as fast as me. I took her back to her camp and came back and I laid awake all night just thinking, what if I hadn't gotten her back in time? What if it had gotten her? I don't want to go there and take her into danger and risk losing her. I'd rather not be with her than put her into danger," Charlie said passionately.

Lock nodded in understanding and patted Charlie on the back a few times. "It's all right, son, there's no reason to beat yourself up over it. You're doing the right thing. There's just one thing I'd like to point out. Let me see your hand, Charlie."

"My hand?" Charlie repeated in questioning. Locke reached for his left hand and held it up to Charlie's face, even though its image was permanently ingrained in Charlie's mind. The tape was gone now, having worn off. He had run out of the tape almost exactly when his drugs disappeared, and the Sharpie had gotten lost somewhere along the way as well. One night during a particularly bad craving he had been prowling the camp, tearing through the suitcases that had been found near the section of the plane. He found a pen and began to write on his fingers, like always. The word **FATE** was spelled out on his fingers in bold black letters, directly on his skin rather than on the white tape. Unlike the tape, this was permanent, at least until the sun faded it and the skin cells died and floated away.

"Fate," Locke read. "Everything happens for a reason, Charlie. This island is giving. It has already returned your guitar to you, and it would seem that it is leading you to something else. What are you willing to give up in return?"

"You're saying I should give myself to the monster. Give the island my life." Charlie stared at Locke in disbelief. This guy was supposed to be helping him, not encouraging suicidal thoughts.

"No. That's not what I said. Charlie, just think about it. Fate. Everything happens for a reason," Locke repeated. He stood up and walked away, leaving Charlie alone and confused. The Brit strummed his guitar a few times as he contemplated Locke's words before deciding he would never be able to understand that crazy old git. He sat alone on that log for most of the day, playing his guitar in an effort to block out the conflicting cravings that were battling within him for supremacy.

Claire was restless. She tried to tell herself it was because she missed Charlie, and that was part of it. She couldn't stop thinking about him and wondering if he made it back safely. Yet underneath her worry for Charlie there was something else causing Claire to pace along the beach and rearrange her sleeping area five times and ask almost everyone on the beach if they needed help doing whatever they were doing, only to be politely brushed aside.

It had to do with her baby. It wasn't like her worry before when he had stopped moving. Now he was almost constantly in motion, but there was something about the nature of his motion that worried her. His kicks landed higher up than usual, as if his feet were in a different place. As if, and Claire almost couldn't bear to think it, as if he had turned. If that were true, it meant she was almost ready to give birth. With no hospital or doctor in sight.

Sayid and Sawyer were the unofficial leaders of the camp, and it was they who rationed the food. Three times a day, the survivors lined up to receive whatever was on the menu. It was usually fish or coconuts, with an occasional side of banana or fig and very sporadically, some boar. No one ever questioned how the got the food or the water, considering that the best sources were all near the jungle camp, so long as the supplies kept coming. At midday, Claire wandered towards the signal fire, where meals were always served. She was the last in line that day, and when she got to the front only Sayid was there. Sawyer had gone to put more wood on the fire.

As Sayid handed her half a coconut and a banana, he glanced at her stomach, as always. Sounding forcedly casual, he said, "You must be getting close to your due date."

"I think so. I don't keep track of the days anymore, but I was eight months when the plane crashed. It's been a month, hasn't it?" Claire asked. Sayid nodded. Claire turned to go, then paused and looked back at Sayid. Fearfully, she asked, "Sayid, when the time comes … when I go into labor… you'll send for Jack, won't you?"

For the first time that Claire could recall, Sayid looked at her face. She almost wished he hadn't because his expression was so full of wrath and anger. "Jack? Oh no. He has turned his back on us. He will not provide us with any help. Going to him would be like offering your neck to the enemy's sword."

"But Sayid, how will I give birth without a doctor?" Claire asked desperately, shocked that he would refuse so bluntly.

"We will all help you. Surely one of the women has been a mother or has seen a birth; someone will know what to do," Sayid replied dismissively. Claire bit her lip and walked away, taking her food back to the chair near her sleeping area. She barely nibbled at the banana and left the coconut untouched. Her eyes followed Sayid as he walked over to Sawyer and said something to him. They both glanced at her for a second, then back at each other. After speaking for a few moments, Sayid went to the tent that _had_ been Jack's infirmary but was now their food warehouse. Sawyer stayed by the fire for another moment, watching the smoke curl into the sky, before getting up and walking into the jungle alone.

Within Claire's body, her baby was trying to tell her something. She could only hope she was misinterpreting the message.

The sun was beginning to set and the temperature was dropping. Charlie finally stood up from the log after securing his guitar in its case. His legs and bum were so numb that he almost fell down after taking the first step and had to wait a moment until he regained feeling in them. When he got back to camp, most of the people were grouped around the fire, with a few on the outskirts already asleep. Charlie sat on the ground between Hurley and Boone, who both glanced at him warily. Since the split, and since trading his drugs away, Charlie had not made any real attempts to reach out to his fellow survivors, and he was sure to them his behavior was strange or even frightening. He didn't care anymore, what they thought of him, because he had plenty of more important things to worry about.

"You sure play that guitar a lot," Hurley said in an attempt to start a casual conversation, as if they were mates in a pub. "You in a band or anything?"

Not so very long ago, such a comment would have sent Charlie into a long speech about Drive Shaft, their accomplishments, and their future plans. Now, Charlie just shrugged. "Played bass in a rock and for awhile."

"Anyone I'd have heard of?" Boone asked.

"You're a Yank, yeah?" Charlie asked. Boone nodded. "Then no, it's not probable. Name Drive Shaft ring a bell?" Boone shook his head. "We were big in England, not so much overseas, but for awhile, we were big."

"What's it like?" Boone asked curiously. "It must be pretty great. I mean, sex, drugs, rock 'n roll… all a guy needs to live, right?"

Charlie turned to look at Boone. The dancing firelight cast shadows on his face and lit up his eyes. He looked frightening, as though he might at any moment blow up. Boone leaned back slightly, away from him, but found it impossible to look away from his shockingly intense blue eyes. Within them could be read a thousand lifetimes, none of them with happy endings. Very softly, Charlie murmured, "All a guy needs to live one life and die a thousand deaths."

Boone and Hurley were both struck silent. Charlie remained sitting at the fire and stared unseeingly at the flames that devoured the wood long after they and the others wandered off to sleep. There would be no rest for Charlie that night, this he knew for a fact. Charlie's mind was blank, except for the occasional pangs of yearning for heroin and Claire, alternately.

A noise in the jungle attracted Charlie's attention. He had no idea what time it was, but the darkness told him it was either far too late or far too early for anyone in the camp to be prowling around the food supply, which was kept underneath a manmade canopy just beside the cave. The minimal noises suggested small size, and the lack of squealing or grunting ruled out boars. When a slightly louder noise was accompanied by the softest utterance of a curse, Charlie realized that whatever it was, it was human, and it was trying not to be heard. A prowler.

Boone always slept close to the cave entrance. If there was an intruder crawling about camp, Charlie didn't want to face it alone, and Boone was physically intimidating, so he was a good candidate for assistance since Jack slept near the back of the cave. Silently, Charlie crept over to Boone and prodded him with his foot until his eyes opened a crack. Charlie put a finger to his lips and pointed towards the food supply. Boone frowned and sat up, not understanding until they heard leaves rustling.

"Thief," Charlie breathed, and Boone nodded. He stood up and followed Charlie towards the source of the noise, both of them hardly daring to breath. The firelight and the moonlight combined provided just enough light to display the silhouette of the figure within, who was dropping coconuts and bananas into a large knapsack.

"On my count," Boone said into Charlie's ear. "We jump him. One… two… now!"

Charlie and Boone lunged forward simultaneously and tackled the burglar to the ground. A short scuffle ensued, and the yelling was loud enough to rouse everyone in the cave. Locke and Jack came forward to pull apart the tangle of limbs and Kate came forward with a flashlight. She shone the light on Charlie first, then Boone, and finally the thief.

Sawyer flashed his trademark smirk at Kate and the rest of the camp. No remorse or guilt or even fear appeared on his face.

"Hello, Freckles."

-----  
**To Be Continued…**


	5. Beginning

**Across Enemy Lines**

**by**** Dreamality  
Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.  
-----****

**Chapter Five**

"Sawyer? What the _hell _are you doing here?" Kate asked in disbelief, keeping the flashlight trained on his face. He squinted and looked away from the bright light, making no reply to her question.

"I'll tell you what he's doing here. Stealing our food!" Boone yelled. Jack had to keep a tight hold on him to keep him from throwing himself at Sawyer and ripping him apart.

"You bloody jackass!" Charlie added. He started forward towards Sawyer but Kate stopped him and held him back. Charlie struggled for a moment but he was still too weak from the effects of the withdrawal to do any major damage.

"Everyone just calm down!" Jack urged.

"Oh, piss off, you self-righteous wanker!" Charlie yelled.

"Let me go, Jack, this guy needs to be taught a lesson!" Boone said. There was something to be said for the fact that the man Charlie had been ready to kill for stealing the water only a few weeks prior was now united with him against a common cause.

"Dude, we're not gonna get anywhere by killing him," Hurley said.

"But it would feel damn good," Charlie said, his voice like the growl of a predator just before the fatal attack.

"Both of you just shut it. And you can let go of me, old man," Sawyer said to Locke.

"No, I think I'll just hold on for a bit longer. Boone, Charlie, both of you stay quiet for a minute. Sawyer, do you have anything to say for yourself?" Locke asked calmly.

"What is this, third grade? Are you gonna make me go sit in my room and think about what I've done? No, I don't have nothing to say for myself. The kid is right. I came here to steal. Though I prefer to call it taking advantage of a good opportunity," Sawyer said smoothly, a smug smile in place on his face.

"The other night three dried fish were taken from us, as well as a fresh bunch of bananas. Was that you, too?" Jack asked.

Sawyer put on a look of intense concentration, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Coulda been me, coulda been my partners in crime, Sayid and Michael. We take turns."

"Sayid?" Kate gasped in disbelief. Her expression matched that of a few others who had gathered to see what the commotion was about. Even though Sayid and Jack had disagreed over where to camp, most considered him to still be a good enough person, whereas Sawyer was generally disliked and mistrusted.

"Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the terrorist isn't as good as he wants you to believe," Sawyer sneered.

"Michael. He was the one with the kid, right?" Locke said to Jack.

Sawyer answered for him. "Yeah, that's him. He leaves his son with the pregnant lady and strolls on through your grocery store here. He knows that you can't live life as a saint and hope to stay on top of the food chain."

"Why do you have to steal? This jungle is plenty big for both of the camps to live well," commented Marc, one of the other survivors who were watching the scene before them unfold with eyes wide in anger and resentment.

"Since the good doctor took the hunter and the only woman who actually _does_ anything, we're left with a terrorist, a redneck, and a black dude who don't know _jack_ about hunting or finding food. Then we've got the princess, the fat girl, the little boy, and the Orientals, plus a herd of _sheep _who need a shepherd to tell them what to do every waking _minute_!" Sawyer's voice was at once exasperated and passionate. Charlie, his strength renewed by the surge of anger that accompanied Sawyer's jibe at "the fat girl," struggled against Kate in an attempt to get to Sawyer. Kate yelled to Hurley, who came forward to awkwardly hold one of Charlie's arms behind his back. Charlie stopped struggling, though his shoulders were still tense and the tendons in his neck popped out while anger simmered slowly beneath the surface of his stormy grey-blue eyes.

"So instead of asking for help, you just steal," Jack said in a monotone. He seemed beyond caring now, too accustomed to Sawyer's behavior to be surprised or outraged.

"Would you have given us help if we asked? Or would you have spit in our faces?" Sawyer asked. Jack didn't answer. "That's what I thought."

"The pregnant woman. How is she?" Locke asked Sawyer out of nowhere.

"Pregnant. How the hell is she _supposed_ to be?" Sawyer asked sarcastically.

"I mean, is she close to giving birth, and if so, what do you plan on doing to help her?" Locke asked, a note of anger coming into his voice. He was not one to suffer fools, and Sawyer was quite possibly the biggest fool of all. Locke was not impressed by his snide comments or rough exterior in the slightest.

"Yeah, she's probably ready to drop it at any moment. Sayid and I have it under control," Sawyer answered.

"Oh, Christ," Jack muttered. "You'll kill her."

"She's not going to die!" Charlie shouted. "Bloody hell, Sawyer, just bring her here! Bring her to Jack!"

"We don't need your help! Let me go, you old geezer, let me go!" Sawyer struggled against Locke until he had one arm freed. He punched Locke in the face so that he let go of him completely and sprinted off into the jungle.

"Locke! Jack, he's bleeding!" Kate shouted unnecessarily. The bright red blood pouring from Locke's nose could be seen even in the dark of night.

"Oh, jeez, come on, Locke, let's get you into the cave. Hurley, go find me some cloth to stem the bleeding. God, I hope it's not broken," Jack said, letting go of Boone to move beside Locke so he could support him and lead him into the caves. Hurley hurried off to obey commands and Kate followed Jack and Locke. The other survivors slowly went back into the cave to try to get a few hours' rest before sunrise. Soon, only Boone and Charlie were left outside.

"Thanks for helping me," Charlie said to Boone, somewhat awkwardly yet with an undertone of sincerity. He thrust his hands deep in his pockets and stared at the ground rather than look at Boone's face.

"Yeah, no problem. What a jerk, huh?" Boone said.

"Yeah, man's got some problems," Charlie answered.

"I wonder how much they've stolen from us in the past. It doesn't seem right, jut to let him get off the hook, you know?" Boone commented.

Charlie's eyes narrowed in thought. "You're right. Perhaps a little revenge is in order."

"What were you thinking?" Boone asked curiously.

"Never mind. Leave it to me," he answered. Boone pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, but Charlie didn't look at him. After a moment, Boone went back into the cave to lie down. Charlie remained sitting by the fire for the rest of the night. Jack's words played through his mind over and over.

_"Oh, Christ. You'll kill her."_

_---_

Days were hard for Claire. She had nothing to do but sit in the sun and watch the people and the ocean and the waves and the sand. Her skin turned bright pink, blistered, peeled, and renewed the cycle so she was in a constant state of pain, burning, and itching. Now that she and Charlie were both apparently too scared to return to the jungle and face possible dismemberment by an unknown terrorizing monster, days were even harder. 

Yet nights were the worst. It cooled off, which was nice, but laying on the sand in an attempt to sleep was itchy, uncomfortable, and almost worse than sunburn. No matter how many ways she tossed or turned, it was nearly impossible to find a tolerable position. It felt like her baby gained a pound every day and her lower back ached constantly from the strain of the added weight. Her ankles swelled, making walking uncomfortable, but sitting around all day made her rear end numb. It seemed like the Fates were against Claire, for reasons unknown to her.

Now there was a new worry that kept her awake for all hours. Every so often, a pain would attack her stomach and make her curl inward around her stomach, whimpering softly. It only happened every fifteen or twenty minutes, but the pain was such that she felt it even after the cramps were gone. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her face, whether from the pain or from the knowledge of what the pain meant Claire didn't know.

At first, she tried to tell herself that they weren't contractions. They were just cramps, that was all. Maybe the banana she'd eaten with dinner hadn't been quite ripe or the fish not cooked all the way through. However, Claire knew that she had only nibbled at her dinner because the first pain had hit her just as Sawyer was handing her the food.

Claire was panicked. She knew, of course, that the baby was going to come eventually. There was no question of that. In the days following the crash she had been only too aware of this. After the splitting of the camps she was distracted by other things, or perhaps she distracted herself with other things to avoid thinking about the rapidly approaching due date. Her mind convinced her that the baby was always a month away, even though the natural progression of time made such a thing ludicrous. Common sense told her she should have been more worried about it, but her mind refused to let her think logically.

If this was really it, if she was really going into labor, Claire had no one to turn to. Sayid was obviously not going to be any help, and she didn't trust Sawyer at all. She didn't know anyone else beyond their first name, and none of them were doctors or nurses or midwives. They wouldn't be of any help to Claire if her baby was breach or if his umbilical cord got wrapped around his neck or if any number of possible problems occurred.

Another contraction washed over Claire. She stuffed her fist in her mouth to stifle the noise so no one else woke up. Maybe the pain would get to be so bad she would just die, and in the morning they would wake up and find her and bury her body or burn it or send it out to sea and go on with their lives, no longer burdened by the responsibility of having a pregnant lady on the island.

Claire wanted Charlie. She knew she should be wishing for Jack, and his appearance was just as unlikely as Charlie's at that moment, but she couldn't help it. He would probably panic and he would have even less of a clue than Claire, but maybe before he passed out he might crack a joke and make Claire smile and relax her enough to let the baby come without problems. Maybe he might even kiss her and make her feel so good she could fly away and find a hospital.

Claire wanted Charlie.

---

The jungle at night was a nightmare factory. Every breath of air that stirred a leaf became a monster in Charlie's mind. Every crack of a twig under his own foot became a polar bear breathing down his neck. His own breathing was so loud he was sure Sawyer could hear it even from where he lay, asleep on the beach. His mind came up with countless "what ifs," including what if he got lost and wandered around until he died of starvation, what if a craving hit him suddenly and he just puked until he passed out and got eaten by a monster, what if Sawyer was on his way to the jungle camp and they met in the dark and Sawyer strangled him, what if… what if… what if… 

Charlie stumbled through the darkness, trying to find his way to the beach camp. He had promised Boone he would go for revenge, and so he was. Strapped to his back was a large knapsack with two bottles of water for himself and plenty of room for whatever food the beach camp had. Should he stumble across any medicine, all the better. Weapons, unlikely but possible, would be even better. And if he had time and reached the beach camp before sunrise and happened to see Claire and got a chance to talk to her, well then, the monster was welcome to him because at least he would die a happy man.

When he reached the beach camp, he paused at the edge of the jungle to observe. He saw dark shapes on the beach, counted them, and found that no one was missing. All of them appeared to be asleep, but Charlie was wary of Sayid and Sawyer, who were asleep by the fire, which was near the tent where the Air Marshall had died. Since he saw no other shelters or piles of food, he figured that was where their stash was stored. Silently he crept across the sand to the tent and let himself inside.

_Idiots_, he thought. _No guard posted, no one keeping watch. Haven't got a brain to share between them_. At the jungle camp, Jack and Locke had decided that a guard should be watching their food at all times, and everyone had a shift. When his came along, Charlie asked Boone to cover for him so he could go on his mission of revenge. Boone had agreed, allowing Charlie to slip off into the night.

The tent was not even half full. To one side were a few backpacks. Upon inspection, Charlie found some painkillers, a pocketknife, cigarettes, and lighters. He took it all and then moved on to the bottles of water stacked in one corner. There were not many, and Charlie only left three behind. In another corner of the tent were two bunches of bananas and a pile of coconuts. He didn't have room to take them all, but he stepped on and smashed one of the bunches of bananas so that they were inedible.

It was wrong. It was bad. It was cruel. It made Charlie feel good.

Sawyer was a jerk. Sayid was an idiot. The others, with the exception of Claire, hadn't a clue what they were doing. Charlie was teaching them a lesson. It would help them in the long run, spur them into action. Maybe they would stop relying on Jack's good sense and leadership and began to think for themselves. While his camp always had plenty to eat and a large variety, it looked as though this camp was living on meager portions and very few choices. The fish Charlie found went into the backpack, even though they stank horribly, and the few bits of boar meat he found were buried into the sand.

It was liberating. It gave him a rush. It was heroin times ten.

Charlie was lost in the moment, destroying everything he came across, and it felt bloody fantastic. When it was over and he had stolen or destroyed nearly everything, leaving them only enough for one meal or two very, very small meals, he exited the tent and went back into the jungle, walking parallel to the beach until his eyes fell upon the only figure that was stirring.

Claire. Her shape was unmistakable. Charlie stopped for a moment to watch her, at first with a smile on his face. She was lying on her back, her eyes open and staring blankly at the sky above. As Charlie watched, an expression crossed her face of intense pain, and the smile fell from Charlie's face. Her hands flew to her stomach and her pale face glowed in the dark night. A small sound escaped her lips, like that of a wounded animal, and she rolled to her side and curled around her stomach.

All pretense of stealth dropped away from Charlie. He crashed through the bush that was in front of him and ran to her side, crying, "Claire!" as he went. He dropped to his knees beside her. The backpack fell from his shoulders and dropped to the ground as Charlie gripped Claire's shoulders and rolled her to her back.

"Charlie," she gasped.

"Shh, Claire, it's all right, I'm here, just relax. What's happening, Claire, what's wrong?"

Claire groaned. Her eyes rolled back in her head and beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. Charlie turned to the backpack and unzipped it quickly, tearing through the contents until his hands grasped a water bottle. His arm went around her shoulder and he helped her sit up a little, then put the bottle to her lips so she could take a drink.

"Charlie, why are you here?" Claire asked.

Charlie hesitated, thinking of the mess he'd left in the tent and the load he had in his backpack. "I came for you, Claire." He moved so he was behind her and let her lean against his chest, keeping his arms around her waist. "What is it, Claire? What's happening?"

"I'm going to have a baby, Charlie," Claire whispered, her voice full of fear and despair.

"What, right _now_?!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Very soon. He's coming. The contractions have started, and they're still spread out, but when they get closer together I'll know it's time," Claire answered.

"But you'll be all right, won't you? You know what to do, don't you?" Charlie asked, his voice getting higher with each word as panic filled him.

"I need a doctor. I need Jack," she answered. She looked up at Charlie and the moonlight glinted off the tear tracks left on her face. She looked frightened and hurt and panicked and yet, still trusting. Charlie bent his head to kiss her, both to draw comfort from her and give comfort to her.

"What's this?" a new voice asked.

"What the hell are you doing, boy?" asked a second.

Charlie looked up at Sayid and Sawyer, who were shining a flashlight in his face. In his arms, Claire tensed and moaned as another contraction gripped her.

-----  
**To Be Continued…**

Once again, I thank you all for your continued support and love! Personal replies to all reviewers can be found in the review section. :-)


	6. Finding

**Across Enemy Lines**

**by Dreamality**

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

**-----**

**Chapter Six:**

"What are you doing to her?" Sayid yelled, grabbing Charlie by the collar and dragging him away from Claire. She fell back onto the sand now that her support was gone and turned her head to the side as warm, wet tears streamed down her face.

"Gerrof me you lug!" Charlie yelled. "I wasn't doing anything to her! I was helping her, since no one else seems to care about her!"

"What's going on with you? Did he hurt you?" Sawyer asked Claire as he crouched beside her. Claire shook her head and tried to sit up, failed, and fell hard onto the unforgiving ground.

"Claire! Oh, God, Claire… let _go_ of me!" Charlie shouted at Sayid. He gripped the man's shoulders and threw him back, using strength he hadn't known he possessed. Sayid let go of him as he lost his balance and fell. Charlie shoved Sawyer aside and grasped Claire's hand, using his other hand to push back the hair sticking to her sweaty brow.

"Charlie, I need a doctor!" Claire gasped.

"Don't you see?" Charlie said to Sayid. "She's in labor! Someone needs to go get Jack!"

"Jack won't help us! Jack hates us! Why should he care enough to help us?" Sawyer yelled.

The noise and commotion had attracted the attention of most of the other sleeping survivors. They gathered around, staring stupidly at Claire as she struggled to breathe through the pain. Charlie turned to look at them, his eyes wild with both fear and anger.

"Don't any of you care? This woman needs a doctor, and the only doctor we have is at the other camp! Someone go get Jack!" Charlie screamed.

"We don't know the way," Shannon said. Charlie looked at Michael, who remained silent but looked at Sawyer and shrugged.

"He won't come!" Sawyer yelled.

Charlie turned to Sayid, whom he suspected was the only one who was capable of intelligent thought. Pleadingly, he appealed to him. "Sayid, if Claire doesn't get a doctor, she will die. Jack wouldn't turn his back on a woman who needs his help this badly. Please, go get Jack."

Sayid heaved a heavy breath. The moment he made a decision was well illustrated on his face and Charlie let out a relieved sigh. "We do not have much here. Not much water, not much medicine, not enough to help her. Going through the jungle to get Jack and bring him back would take too much time. We need to bring her to Jack."

"I'm telling you, Sayid, it's all going to be for nothing. Jack has made up his mind. His loyalty is to the jungle camp. He ain't gonna help you." Sawyer stepped over Claire so he could stand in front of Sayid. "Her only chance is to stay here."

"Keeping her here is murder!" Charlie yelled. Sayid glanced from Claire's pale, pain-stricken face to Charlie's desperate face to Sawyer's hardened, glowering face. He took a step towards Claire and was blocked by Sawyer.

"Don't do it, Sayid," Sawyer said warningly.

Sayid took a deep breath and clenched both of his fists. "Sawyer, I will not let your grudge against Jack get in the way of an innocent woman's life. I'm sorry." He drew back his arm and punched Sawyer squarely in the face. As he fell, Sawyer's face was one of shock until he hit the ground and his face went lax. He was completely unconscious.

"Charlie, help me," Claire whispered. Charlie kissed her hand.

"I will, love. I'm doing all I can," he answered.

"All right, Charlie, we need to get moving quickly. Michael, we need you to help us get her through the jungle to the other camp," Sayid said, barking out orders as if he were born to it. Michael glanced hesitantly at Walt. Sayid looked at Shannon, who was watching Claire with something like horror, or perhaps disgust. "You! Shannon! Watch over Walt while Michael is gone. None of you are to leave the beach until we return. Charlie, get your arm around her and I will help you pick her up. Michael, go into the tent and get a few bottles of water and the pocketknife."

"Already way ahead of you, mate. I've got it all in my backpack. Come on, one, two, three, lift!" Charlie and Sayid heaved Claire to her feet and started off towards the jungle with Michael trailing them. The flashlight Sayid held provided enough light to guide Charlie, though the rising panic within him did not help matters much. The absolute darkness of the jungle was a feeding ground for imagined terrors that always seemed to be right on their heels, propelling them forward and yet making them wary to go on. The silence was broken only by their own puffing breaths and Claire's heavy, labored breathing and groans of pain.

After a few moments, a thought came into Charlie's head. He looked at Sayid from over Claire's head and suggested, "Someone should run ahead and warn Jack that we're coming. He's probably sleeping now." Charlie, however, was not about to volunteer. His grip on Claire was strong and unbreakable. Sayid nodded and glanced at Michael.

"Yeah, I'll go, but will Jack believe me or trust me?" Michael asked. "I don't know how much Sawyer said last night, but I'll guarantee none of it was very flattering of us."

Charlie cursed under his breath as he realized that anyone from the beach camp would be less than welcome at his own camp. He knew the way to the caves best and would be believed when he arrived. Although he hated to leave Claire, he knew it was for the best for him to go ahead. With only a brief pause in their pace, Charlie and Michael switched places so Claire was supported between Sayid and Michael. She looked at Charlie with wild eyes as he began to back away.

"Charlie, don't leave me!" Claire pleaded, choking the words out between sobs.

He briefly cupped her face in his hands. "Claire, you'll be fine. I swear I will come right back to you." He turned a hardened, warning gaze on Sayid and Michael. "You take care of her."

"Go, Charlie!" Sayid urged with a little push to his shoulder. Charlie locked eyes with Claire and stumbled backwards a few steps before turning around and taking off at a dead run. His body drew on reserves of energy that had never been awoken before but now worked to light a fire beneath his feet.

The pitch black jungle was lighted in only certain areas by sporadic beams of moonlight that found ways to shine between the treetops. It was not enough to make Charlie sure of his path and without the flashlight it was even harder. He paused and looked around wildly, trying to force his eyes to pierce the darkness that was impenetrable. Dread began to cloud his judgment further. To stifle a scream of frustration, Charlie bit down on his tightly clenched left fist.

Very slowly, Charlie lowered the fist until it was at waist level and looked upon the words written across the knuckles. **FATE.** Locke's words entered Charlie's head. "Everything happens for a reason." Then Claire's voice was there. "Whatever happens will happen, right?" His own voice, broken and weak, was the last to come. "Que sera, sera."

Charlie took a deep breath and closed his eyes momentarily, murmuring a quick prayer to an unseen guide above. Then he opened his eyes and began running blindly, trusting only his instinct. Occasionally something caught his foot and sent him tumbling to the ground. A coppery taste filled his mouth, which he spat upon the ground as he pulled himself up and continued running. His face and arms were scratched by branches but his mind blocked the pain. Every ragged breath tore through his lungs and the muscles in his legs screamed in protest. Yet Charlie ran on, right to his camp and into the cave. He ignored his body's insistence on collapsing and concentrated only on his mind, which was telling him to go get Jack. He was aware of Boone calling his name and following him into the cave but ignored him in favor of locating Jack.

"What's going on? Did you get the stuff? What's wrong with you, man?" Boone asked. Charlie shook his head and fell to the ground beside Jack. Murmuring his name in a barely audible voice, Charlie shook Jack's shoulder until he jolted awake.

"What the hell–?!"

"Jack. Need your help, mate. Got to help her. It's Claire. Jack, she's going to have her baby," Charlie gasped out. Jack, still trying to wake up, sat up and put a hand on Charlie's chest to quiet him, or perhaps hold him at bay. Charlie was sure he looked frightening, with wild eyes and sweat pouring off of him and panic evident on his face.

"Hold on, Charlie. Say that again. Who needs help?" Jack asked.

"Claire!" Charlie shouted. "It's Claire, she's going into labor!"

Jack's eyes widened in realization. "Where is she?"

"In the jungle. They're bringing her here. Come with me, I'll take you to her." Charlie grabbed Jack by the arm, hauled him bodily to his feet, and had him halfway to the cave entrance before Jack could stop him. Boone followed, as well as Locke and Kate who had been awakened by the commotion.

"Whoa, Charlie, hold on a minute. We can't just go charging off into the jungle. You're not making any sense," Jack said.

Charlie's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed in anger. Very slowly, as if speaking to a young child, he explained, "Claire went into labor about half an hour ago. Sayid and Michael are carrying her through the jungle to these caves. You need to come with me so we can find her in case something goes wrong. Now come _on_, damn it!"

"Charlie, just shut up for a second!" Jack yelled, ripping his arm from Charlie's grasp. With the young Brit momentarily stunned silent, Jack turned to the small audience that had gathered. "Locke, please go heat up some water over the fire. Kate, find some clean clothes or blankets or something to make Claire a comfortable bed in the back of the cave. Boone, go to the medicine supplies and see if you can find any of those little bottles of vodka we found in the wreckage. Then I'll need some scissors, and heat those over the fire to disinfect them. Charlie, I want you to sit down for two minutes and drink some water. You'll only cause more problems if you pass out."

Charlie nodded and sank down onto the log beside the fire. Someone pressed a bottle of water into his grateful hands, which he drank in about thirty seconds. He sat there for another minute to catch his breath. His fingers worked furiously to take off the Oceanic label on the bottle and rip it into tiny shreds while his leg jiggled impatiently. When Jack finally came towards him he leapt to his feet.

"All right, Charlie, show me where she is," Jack said.

The two men set off at a jog into the jungle. Jack, being possibly the smartest or at least most logical person on the island, had a flashlight in his hand. Charlie took the lead, dodging trees as agilely as a cat. Jack trusted his guidance and simply followed as closely as he could. In the back of his mind he thought of other mad dashed through the jungle when it was dark or raining and he could only rely on carnal instinct to escape danger. He felt the fear rising up within and quickly pushed it down, refusing to let it take control of his body or mind. Still, he couldn't stop the flood of relief that came when another flashlight beam was sighted and he heard his own name shouted by a familiar, yet long unheard, voice. It was Sayid, and soon he, Michael, and Claire came into view.

Suddenly, an unearthly roar erupted through the silence of the jungle. The two separate groups both stopped suddenly and looked around for the source of the noise. It was soon accompanied by loud, earth-shattering footsteps that were far too close for comfort.

"Jack!" yelled Sayid's fearful voice. "How will we get her through?"

"Charlie!" Claire screamed. Charlie looked towards her, then back to Jack. The doctor saw the decision on his face and opened his mouth to protest but got cut off quickly.

"Go take care of her. Forget what Sayid and Michael may have ever done to us. Only she is important." Charlie swallowed hard. "I'll distract it." He looked at Claire for a split second, his eyes full of longing, and then ran off. A second later, Jack heard him yell, "Hey! Hey, you! Yeah, c'mon, you great bloody wanker, chase me!"

The footsteps retreated. Jack closed his eyes momentarily as a grim expression came over his face. Michael and Sayid, with Claire between them, approached at a slower pace.

"Where did Charlie go?" Michael asked. Jack looked at him, then at Sayid, who seemed to have already guessed what had happened.

"He went to distract the… the monster."

"Charlie! Come back, Charlie, I need you!" Claire screamed.

"We think she's becoming delirious due to the pain. She doesn't seem to know where she is. She just keeps yelling for Charlie," Sayid explained to Jack.

"How often are her contractions occurring?" Jack asked. He picked up her legs so the three men could carry her through the jungle.

"About every seven minutes, give or take," Sayid answered. They picked up the pace a little while Claire moaned and thrashed. None of the men spoke as Claire began to cry softly. Her eyes were glazed over with pain and her skin shone with a layer of sweat. It seemed to take forever to reach the jungle, and Jack became increasingly worried that Claire would need more assistance before they ever did, especially when her water broke and her contractions began to come every four or five minutes. He was also trying very hard not to think about what might be happening to Charlie.

When they reached the caves, Jack did not allow himself to feel relieved. He knew the real test –the baby's delivery– was yet to come. Kate ushered them to the small area set up for Claire and the three men carefully lowered her to the ground. She had long since left the world they saw and had recessed into a trancelike state induced by the intense pain of the contractions, the fear of the jungle, and worry for Charlie. Jack used a cloth soaked in warm water to mop off her forehead and Kate used a rubber band to pull her hair back.

"Someone get me a bottle of water for her to drink," Jack said shortly. He heard footsteps hurry away and return quickly. He was handed a water bottle and Sayid tipped Claire's head back so Jack could pour in a few small sips. Claire choked and coughed and spit most of it up.

"Jack. What happened to Charlie?" Locke asked in a low voice. Jack's shoulders tensed and he exhaled sharply.

"He went running into the jungle after the monster. He wanted to distract it so it wouldn't go after Claire," Jack explained.

Locke nodded. Jack's explanation only confirmed what he already believed. Decisively, he said, "I'll go find him."

"What?" Jack turned around quickly. "No! Locke, we can't lose you, too!"

"Don't worry, son. I know how to take care of myself all right," Locke answered. He glanced at Claire, who appeared to be having another contraction. "Your responsibility is to her. We can't lose her."

Jack nodded. He knew arguing would get him nowhere with John Locke. The old man went to his briefcase and selected a few lethal-looking knives from the arsenal he had. As he strode from the jungle, a faint song echoed through the cave. Jack and the rest of the people in the cave turned to stare at Claire in surprise.

"Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera… sera…"

-----   
Charlie sat on the edge of a cliff that towered over the surface of the ocean. Far, far below him, waves crashed against the rock with alarming force, and Charlie felt the reverberations in his bones. His blue eyes looked out towards the horizon where the twinkling stars burned bright fires against a velvety black backdrop. Within him there raged a great battle of thought and feeling, yet outwardly he appeared calm.

He was not surprised in the least when quiet footsteps approached him from behind, nor did he find it odd that Locke had known where he was. When the man sat beside him Charlie did not look at him, but a slow smile did spread across his face.

"How is she?" Charlie asked.

"She needs you," Locke stated simply. His observant eyes noted that they were sitting in a depression in the ground, as if an animal of abnormal size had walked there. He saw the very faint vibration running through Charlie's body, as if the effects of a powerful burst of adrenaline still lingered in him. Locke asked him softly, "What happened to it?"

"Fell off the cliff. Almost took me with it, the prat. I ducked," Charlie responded.

"But you saw it?" Locke asked.

Charlie laughed. "Did I see it? Yeah, I saw it. Looked right into the bugger's eyes, straight on, man-to-man. Or animal-to-man, as it were. Animal-to-boy, maybe?"

"And what did you find in its eyes?" Locke pressed.

Charlie looked him straight in the eyes and for the first time since the crash, Locke was able to glimpse Charlie's true soul, pure and untouched by heroine and the evils it wrought on his young body. Charlie smiled as he replied, "Answers."

"Are you ready to go back?" Locke asked.

"I'm scared," Charlie admitted. "I couldn't even take care of myself. How can I take care of her? And a _baby_, for God's sake?"

"But you know it is your destiny."

Charlie nodded. Locke stood and helped him up. As they walked back towards the caves, Locke heard Charlie sing something, partly out loud and partly to himself, that was almost eerily familiar.

"Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera… sera…"

-----   
"Where is he?! Why didn't you go after him?" Claire cried. She struggled against the strong arms that held her down and failed. Her head turned from side to side on the makeshift pillow beneath her head while her eyes closed momentarily, then opened wide very suddenly. Her breathing became shallow and a low, guttural moan rose up out of her throat.

"Claire, look at me. I need you to listen. When the next contraction comes, you have to push hard. Can you do that, Claire? It's up to you. The baby is relying on you," Jack told Claire. He glanced worriedly, who was holding down Claire as she was half-crazed with pain. Another contraction came and Claire made no move to push. Apparently she hadn't even heard Jack.

"How do we make her push, Jack?" Kate asked desperately.

"I don't know," Jack said angrily. "I'm a spinal surgeon, Kate, not an obstetrician!"

"Where did Charlie go? I have to help him!" Claire shouted. She began to cry, a miserable, wretched sound that brought tears to Jack's own eyes.

"Claire, Charlie's not here right now. You can't help him, you have to worry about yourself. Please, Claire, push!" Kate coerced. Claire's eyes were bright and her hair was dark with sweat. Every nerve ending in her body tingled and she was hyperaware of everything that touched her. None of it was soft enough, nothing soothed the fear. She wanted Charlie's touch. She didn't _want_ to be a mother anymore. She didn't _want_ to go through such pain or be responsible for the life of another. Why couldn't she just be normal, like Kate or Shannon or any of the other women on the island? Then maybe she might have helped Charlie better, or maybe he wouldn't have even noticed her and he wouldn't be running around a dark jungle being chased by a monster just for her sake.

"Push, Claire, push!"

The voices were indistinguishable to her. Be it Kate or Jack or Thomas or her mother, nothing could bring Claire out of the dark place she was locked in. She knew her baby would die if she didn't do something soon, but for the life of her she couldn't muster the strength. Every feeble attempt to push at all made spots dance before her eyes and blackness edge in on her vision.

Suddenly, someone else was there. Another presence was at her side, pushing Kate out of the way and wrapping lovingly familiar arms around her. A soft thumb brushed away the fallen tears and cleaned the tear tracks with a kiss, roughened with stubble but still gentle.

"Come on, then, love, give us a push," a voice whispered in her ear.

Claire pushed.

The sound of the squalling infant was the loveliest sound Claire had ever heard.

-----   
**To Be Continued…**


	7. Ready

**Across Enemy Lines**

**by Dreamality**

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.   
-----

**Chapter Seven:**

The sun basked Charlie in warmth as he stood beneath its glory with his face turned upwards. No longer did it feel abrasive or painful against his skin and his eyes didn't water when he opened them and exposed them to the daylight. A warm, peaceful feeling sat in the pit of his stomach and sent tingles to the end of his nerves. The smile on his face was natural, not strained or forced. No secrets remained guarded within his soul and for the first time in many years Charlie felt free to breath easy.

"Charlie!" He turned at the sound of his name. Locke was standing in the shade beneath the eaves of the caves, beckoning to him. Charlie walked forward as Locke said, "She's awake now and asking for you."

Charlie's steps quickened and he followed Locke into the darker cave. His eyes, now accustomed to the sunlight, could barely see anything of the interior, but his feet knew the path. He stepped around people and random objects lying on the floor until he found Claire, sitting upright with a baby cradled in her arms. Although she looked tired –and who wouldn't be, after giving birth without an epidural or any kind of painkiller? – her face bore an expression of absolute joy. When she glanced up and saw Charlie the smile only broadened, and she tilted the baby so he could see.

"Look, Charlie. I think he's got my eyes," Claire said.

"And your nose. See it?" Charlie traced the baby's nose with a soft finger as he knelt beside Claire, putting one arm around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek against her soft hair. "You feeling all right? Have you got some water or something to eat?"

"Jack just went to get me something. Where were you?" Claire inquired curiously.

"Just outside, enjoying the fresh air. When did Jack say you could get up again?" Charlie asked.

"Soon. I feel perfectly fine, Charlie, just a little tired. I could get up now, I think," Claire commented casually.

"But I won't let you try. You'll be no help to the baby if you get up too soon and end up hurting yourself. Stay put and let me baby you," Charlie said, giving her stomach a little tickle. She giggled, and the sound brought immeasurable gratification to Charlie's ears. "Speaking of which, have you chosen a name for the little one yet?"

Claire nodded, gazing at her child with love and tenderness in her eyes. "Geoffrey. It means 'gift of peace.' It's one of the names I thought about even before the island. Somehow I think it fits him…"

As Charlie looked down at little Geoffrey, so small and vulnerable and perfect, he couldn't help but agree. Jack came up to them and gave Claire water to drink and a little bit to eat. He took Geoffrey from her for a few minutes to check him over and returned to proclaim him a healthy baby boy, and other members of the camp came by periodically to admire the baby and check on the new mother. Throughout the day Charlie stayed by her side until she dozed, then went to stand in the sunlight, sometimes alone and sometimes with Geoffrey. The moment she awakened he was back by her side, ready to attend to any need she had. He was throwing himself into the role of stand-in father wholeheartedly, as if it were his job…

Or his destiny.

At dusk, Hurley came up to Charlie and Claire. Jack was with them, too, to talk to Claire about caring for Geoffrey. They were trying to figure out some sort of makeshift diaper but all they'd manage to do was get Geoffrey tangled up in t-shirts and sweatpants and laugh while he gurgled happily.

"Uh, dudes…" Hurley began uncertainly. Jack turned to him attentively, waiting to hear what he had to say. "There's like, ten people out here all asking to see Claire…"

"Why don't they just come in?" Jack asked in confusion.

"They're like, not exactly from around here. I mean, they're from the beach camp," Hurley answered. Jack glanced at Charlie and Claire, whose eyebrows were raised in surprise.

"Well, can't they come in?" Claire asked. Jack shrugged and nodded at Hurley, who hurried away to let them in. One by one the survivors who had, until only a few hours ago, hated everyone in the jungle camp came in to see Claire and the baby. Many of them thanked Jack and Charlie and asked if they could stay in the caves rather than on the beach, where the sun was inescapable and food was not as plentiful and water was far more tightly rationed. Jack, of course, agreed. They all seemed relieved, as if they were tired of being angry about some petty arguments and were ready to put it all behind them.

Boone had stayed mostly out of the way during Claire's labor and delivery. He did what was asked of him, then sat by the fire and let the doctor do the rest. When the group from the beach came, he glanced up disinterestedly, not expecting to find Shannon. She wasn't among them. It was so like her, he thought, to completely disregard family bonds to follow a lust. It was obvious that she was attracted to Sawyer, never mind his total jackass personality, which is the only reason she stayed on the beach. That, and there was a better opportunity to get a tan out there rather than in the jungle.

Boone tried to tell himself that he was beyond caring, but he really wasn't. After all, she was his baby sister. His parents had told him on the day she was born that it was his job to love and protect her, no matter how big the differences between them may be. When they were young it had been easy. When they got older, however, it became obvious that they walked two different paths in life. Now, in a life-and-death situation, Boone had failed his parents, failed Shannon, and failed himself.

"So this is the place, huh?"

Boone glanced up sharply, though he hardly needed visual confirmation. The voice was unmistakable, the legs even more so, and her face only substantiated his thoughts. Shannon was there, standing in front of him with her sunglasses perched atop her head, her hair as straight and smooth as ever, and a disdainful expression on her face.

"Honestly, I don't see what the big deal is. It's a bunch of rocks. So what?"

"It's a bunch of rocks that provide protection from the rain, from predators, from sunburn. It's a constant supply of water and we're surrounded by food. Even low-carb stuff, Shannon," Boone answered, smirking up at her. Shannon rolled her eyes at him.

"Don't think I'm here to stay. I just came to see Claire and bring the kid to his dad," she answered.

Speaking of the kid, Walt came up then and pulled on Shannon's hand. Michael was right behind him, holding Vincent's leash.

"Shannon, can we play tag again sometime? That was pretty fun," Walt said.

"Come on now, Walt, don't pester her. I'm sure she has better things to do than hang around a kid all day," Michael said. He glanced apologetically at Shannon. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to say thank you for watching him while I was gone."

"No problem," Shannon said, ignoring Boone's look of surprise. With a small, hesitant smile she reached out and put her hand on Walt's head. "Maybe later, okay, Walt?" Walt grinned and nodded before taking the leash from his dad's hand and running off to play with Vincent. Michael thanked Shannon again and walked off, leaving the brother and sister alone together by the firelight.

"Shannon, that was… shocking," Boone said, sounding half impressed and half disbelieving.

"What, you didn't think I was capable of being nice to anyone but myself?" Shannon asked sarcastically.

"All I can say, Shannon, is that I'm impressed." Shannon smirked at him and began to walk towards the entrance to the cave. She turned when Boone called to her and he added, "It's good to have you back, Shannon."

She started to roll her eyes, reconsidered, and instead offered Boon a small smile before turning away.

Shannon was not the only one to stay. Walt, who was convinced that Vincent liked the caves better and wanted to stay closer to Locke, convinced Michael to stay. Sayid, too, saw the logic in living there. After a brief conversation with Jack and Kate he agreed to stay there. Others came and found the valley to be a beautiful place with a surplus of natural resources. The old rivalry, the one that had once threatened the lives of Claire and Geoffrey, melted away in all but one person.

Twenty-eight started on the beach. Twenty-seven left the beach after Geoffrey was born. Sawyer was the only one who remained on the beach, stubbornly refusing to concede to Kate and Jack. When Sayid ventured out to the beach to attempt to reason with him, he came back with a bloodied lip. Apparently Sawyer did not forget the punch that had knocked him out for nearly an entire day, and although Sayid regretted that he had been forced to rely on violence, he did not regret his decision to turn away from Sawyer and help Claire.

Charlie and Claire were oblivious to any of the drama occurring outside of the caves. Their only thoughts were of Geoffrey, and the babe turned out healthy and normal despite the unconventional circumstances of his birth. Claire recovered her strength quickly and spent much of the day outside, taking walks with Charlie or sitting with the other women and talking about child raising. Charlie almost never left her side except to fetch things for her, which earned him the good-natured nickname "Puppy" from some members of the camp. Nothing could wipe the smile from Charlie's face, and for the first time in many, many years he actually felt happy.

Meanwhile, Sawyer remained alone on the beach with no one to help him gather food or water or hunt or fish. He stayed in his tent trying not to think of the valley with the full supply of food and constant supply of water, but it was hard to block it completely from his thoughts. His days were filled with nothing but walking through the jungle looking for food or water, and it was really very tedious. Yet still his pride would not let him concede and go to the caves.

Although Jack was not overly fond of Sawyer by any means, his doctor's soul made him care. It was dangerous to live alone, especially in a place as remote as a deserted island. If Sawyer ever got hurt, no one would know. He could die out there and no one would find out for days or even weeks, since no one seemed very keen on returning to the beach camp except to get their things.

When Jack knew that there was a group going out to fish, he asked to join them. They ended up at a spot on the beach that wasn't altogether too far from the original beach camp. Jack made up an excuse and walked down the shore towards the camp, almost afraid of what he may or may not find. Sawyer had been living alone for four days.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Sawyer lying on the beach, propping himself up with his elbows. His head turned and his gaze locked with Jack's. His expression was unreadable as Jack approached and he said nothing

"Sawyer," Jack said.

"Well, well, well. If it ain't the good doctor come returned to his roots. What brings you to this neck of the woods, Jacky?" Sawyer asked, sitting up so he could get a better look at Jack's face.

"I just came to check on you," Jack answered, then winced inwardly when he realized how lame that sounded.

"Thanks for your concern, Doc, but I'm just fine. Not that you care. Now tell me, Jacky boy, what did you really come here for?" Sawyer asked.

"You don't have to live here, Sawyer. I came to ask you to come back with me and live in the caves," Jack answered.

"I'm sorry, Jack. Call me an old-fashioned girl, but I like to get to know a guy better before I start moving into caves with him," Sawyer sneered. "Besides, won't Kate be a little jealous?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Sawyer. It's stupid to live here by yourself. It's dangerous. Besides, you can't tell me that it's easy. Hunting by yourself, fishing by yourself, getting water by yourself… doesn't it get old?"

"Not really. I thank you for your noble concern, but I'm having a good time here in my bachelor pad. Feel free to drop by any time, but don't expect me to be paying you any visits," Sawyer answered.

Jack sighed. "Sawyer, it doesn't have to be like this. I'm willing to forgive and forget. We can agree to disagree. Just don't do this to yourself. It's suicide."

"Is that the time?" Sawyer exclaimed in mock surprise at he glanced at his wrist, where there was no watch. "I've got a pot roast in the oven I need to take out, so if you'll excuse me, Jack…"

Sawyer got up and walked away from Jack. The doctor watched him go for a moment, then turned around and went back down the beach. He helped the others fish, went back to the caves, checked on Claire, and helped Locke start cooking their dinner. His mind was occupied with thoughts of Sawyer, and even though he should not feel pity for such an ungrateful person, he couldn't help but worry. Jack distracted himself by looking after Claire, who really was his first responsibility even though Charlie had pretty much all bases covered.

Kate approached him as night fell and guided him gently away from the main camp to a more secluded, private area so they could talk without fear of being overheard. "Boone told me you went to the beach camp today."

Jack nodded. He wasn't going to lie to Kate about it. "I wanted to ask Sawyer to come here."

"But why? Sawyer obviously hates us. He was stealing from us!" Kate pointed out.

"I'm well aware of that, Kate, but so did Sayid and Michael and we still let them stay here," Jack answered calmly.

"They were sorry, and besides, Michael has a son. Walt doesn't deserve to suffer because Sawyer's such an idiot," Kate replied.

"Sawyer is still human, Kate. He was still on the plane, the same as any of us. Doesn't he deserve the same chance as the rest of us?" Jack asked.

Kate sighed and ran a hand through her wavy brown hair. "I want to say no, because he's such a jerk, but I suppose you're right. What did he say, though? Why isn't he here now?"

"He refused. He's too proud to come here, I think. Maybe he'll come around. Otherwise I can't see him lasting much longer out there," Jack answered dourly.

A commotion coming from near the fire attracted their attention then, cutting short their conversation. Charlie had actually left Claire's side for once, which was the first thing Jack noticed. Secondly he saw that Charlie was shouting at someone, and if it weren't for Sayid's hold on him Jack thought Charlie would be on top of whoever it was, pummeling him out. He had never seen Charlie so angry.

"What the hell?" Kate muttered. She and Jack ran over to the fire just as Sawyer emerged from the shadows of the jungle. Both of them stopped short and a hush fell over the camp as everyone stared at him. Geoffrey, cradled in Claire's arms, began to cry.

The sound seemed to bring Charlie around. The tension left him and even though he was still scowling darkly, he motioned to Sayid that it would be all right to release him. Sayid was hesitant but let go all the same. Charlie walked over to where Claire sat with Geoffrey and put his arm around her waist, his other hand rubbing Geoffrey's back.

"Charlie, are you all right?" Claire asked worriedly.

Charlie looked down in shame. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm so sorry, Claire. I shouldn't have acted that way. Now I've upset you and I've upset Geoffrey." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jack and Sayid talking to Sawyer, who was making angry gestures in Charlie's direction. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Claire's shoulder. "Will I ever do anything right?"

When Charlie had glimpsed Sawyer walking towards the camp, all he could remember was the last time he had seen Sawyer. The man had tried to keep Claire from going to Jack, and in Charlie's mind that was akin to attempted murder. Had Claire stayed on the beach, no one would have known what to do. How to stop the bleeding, how to properly cut the umbilical cord, how to bring Claire's fever down after the birth, what position she needed to be in, when to ask her to push… so many things could have gone wrong. Sawyer had stepped in the way. Sawyer had nearly killed Claire. Charlie had been ready to kill him.

"Don't beat yourself up, Charlie," Claire whispered, stroking his hair gently. Geoffrey was quieting; whatever discomforts that had prompted him to cry having disappeared.

"Claire, if I hadn't come that night, would you have woken anyone up?" Charlie asked.

"I suppose my screaming would have woken them up. It kept everyone around here awake all night," Claire answered.

"Sawyer wouldn't have brought you here. Claire, you could have died," Charlie said, his voice sounding choked. Claire lifted his chin with a finger so she could look at him.

"Shh, Charlie. Don't think about that. You came, didn't you? You brought me here, didn't you? You saved my life and Geoffrey's life. Who cares about Sawyer as long as we're here?" Claire grinned at him, and he had to return the gesture. Geoffrey was beginning to close his eyes, ready for a nap. Charlie took him from Claire's arms and rocked him back and forth, humming an old lullaby his mum had sung to him when he was a lad. Claire stroked his hair softly as she gazed lovingly at her son.

Charlie's humming was abruptly cut short when someone approached the couple and cleared his throat. Charlie scowled up at Sawyer's face, passing Geoffrey to Claire and motioning for her to walk away. Claire went to sit beside Shannon, who happily picked up the baby and tickled his tummy, making him giggle. Claire watched Charlie and Sawyer worriedly.

"What you doing here, Sawyer?" Charlie asked.

Sawyer sighed. "Well, here's the thing, sport. Living alone ain't as grand as it seems. Basically it sucks, and even though I'm not Jack's number one fan, I think I can tolerate living under his roof as long as he doesn't start stepping on any of my toes. Thing is, Jack won't let me in till I apologize to you. So here I am."

"You're apologizing?" Charlie asked skeptically. Sawyer nodded and ran a hand through his sun-bleached hair, darkened only slightly by sweat and dirt.

"That's what I said, ain't it?"

"Are you apologizing sincerely or just because you're hungry and want to be able to raid our supplies without being tackled?" Charlie asked with his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Sawyer's shoulders drooped and he looked down at the floor. His foot kicked at the dirt as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. When he looked up again, Charlie was astonished to find honest emotion in his eyes. He looked sad, if it was possible for someone like Sawyer to feel that way, and lines appeared on his forehead that suggested his rough exterior had not been built without reason. "Look, Charlie. I'm addressing you man-to-man. I've never been a saint. I've never been a perfect model citizen. My life took a few unexpected twists along the way, twists I'd much rather forget now that it looks like I'm not going to have to face them anytime soon. Something tells me you can relate. I'm asking you now, give me a chance to start over. You've already done that, from what I've seen. I'm not gonna be your best friend, and I know that. Just… let me _try._"

Charlie pursed his lips as he surveyed Sawyer. The man's words hit very close to home to Charlie, and indeed he could relate. His own life had taken many, many twists, and the island had given him reason to start over. With people like Locke and Claire he had been able to overcome his past. Was Sawyer willing to do the same? It was hard to say, but something within Charlie was moved. He stood up and looked Sawyer in the eye, his expression neither cold nor friendly. He stuck out a hand, which Sawyer took.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you, Sawyer, and I've no doubt that Jack will be too. I hope you don't give me reason to regret this," Charlie said.

"Thank you. Listen, man, I _am_ sorry about getting in your way. I just didn't realize…"

Charlie nodded. "Fresh start, Sawyer. Use it well."

"Thanks." Sawyer walked away and Charlie went to sit beside Claire.

"What was that about? Is Sawyer staying here?" Claire asked.

"Yeah. He apologized," Charlie answered, his voice emotionless.

"Do you think he's serious?" Kate asked, coming to sit on Charlie's other side. Shannon passed a sleeping Geoffrey to Claire and walked away as Jack came and put some more wood on the fire. Sayid sat on the floor near them and Jack took Shannon's now occupied seat. Hurley, who had been sitting near enough to overhear, spoke up.

"That dude is hopeless. No offense, Jack, but you're crazy for letting him stay here," he said.

"I don't know, Hurley. Nobody's perfect. I was a pretty hopeless guy myself before I came here," Charlie said.

"We all have our mistakes. This place gives us the chance to bury them," Kate said. Charlie glanced at her, and when their eyes met he saw that she had as many secrets as he to bury. They all did, of course. It was as Locke had been telling him since that day Charlie had first come to the caves, the day he put the little bag of heroin into Locke's grasp. The island was giving all of them a precious gift. A new life, a chance to improve on whatever life they had lived before the island. Charlie put his arm around Claire and felt her lean into him. He looked over her shoulder at the baby in her arms. Geoffrey was the most precious gift of all, and his perfect, untouched, complete innocence served as a daily reminder to Charlie of where he came from, and where he might one day end up.

"Sing us a lullaby, Charlie," Claire said teasingly as she snuggled her head in the crook of his neck. His hand stroked her silky blonde hair as he smiled down at Geoffrey's sleeping form.

"Yeah, go on, Puppy," Hurley said with a smile. The guitar case containing Charlie's beloved guitar was stowed in the shadows near Hurley. He pulled it towards himself and handed it to Charlie.

"Afraid I'm not so familiar with the lullabies," Charlie said with a grin even as he unlatched the case and pulled out his guitar. He ran his hand lovingly along the neck and strummed the strings once with his thumb.

"What, Drive Shaft never crooned any babies to sleep?" Claire asked with a grin.

"Plenty of babes, but not too many babies," Charlie said. His smile faded for a moment until Claire rested her hand on his thigh and smiled encouragingly at him. He chuckled and picked up the guitar, placing his fingers on notes so well-known to him he could play them in his sleep.

The chorus of "You All Everybody" came to him easily. He kept it soft so as not to disturb Geoffrey and sang the words that had caused too many fights with one he loved than he cared to recall. When his voice died out and the last note faded away, Charlie sent a silent goodbye to Drive Shaft and the life he had lost as the plane went down. It was over. That chapter, that era was done. Charlie turned to Claire and brushed his lips across hers briefly before resting his head on hers.

"Hello, love," he murmured into her hair. He felt a tiny hand curl around his pointer finger as Claire's hand stroked the back of his neck. This was his new era, the new part of his life, and he was ready for it. The island had prepared him for it and he was ready.

-----

**The End. **Once again, thank you to all my readers for your love and support as I wrote this story. I will post personal replies soon.

-But wait! The end is never truly the en for med. Keep an eye out for a very special Alternate Ending coming soon.-


	8. Alternate Ending

**Across Enemy Lines**

**by Dreamality**

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

**Author's Notes:** First and foremost, thank you to everyone who has stuck by me since the beginning of this fic and thank you to everyone who has read this story. I really appreciate you taking the time to do so and I'm glad so many of you have enjoyed my work! Secondly, I want to make sure you all realize that this update is an **Alternate Ending**. That means you don't have to read it. It's not part of the story I already wrote. It starts off in _italics_ as part of **Chapter Six**. Once the _italics_ are removed, that's where the **Alternate** part comes in. Thus, if you read this ending, disregard **Chapter Seven.**

**This Alternate Ending will not be a happily ever after.** There's your fair warning. I didn't _want_ to make a sad ending, but since this was inspired by Romeo and Juliet, I felt that I had to give you the opportunity to see a tragic ending. So… if you don't want to see your favorite characters, well… you know… meet a tragic demise… then don't read this chapter. Just read Chapter Seven so you don't have to get mad at me.

Thanks!

-----

**Alternate Ending:**

_When they reached the caves, Jack did not allow himself to feel relieved. He knew the real test –the delivery of the child– was yet to come. Kate ushered them to the small area set up for Claire and the three men carefully lowered Claire to the ground. She had long since left the world they saw and had recessed into a trancelike state induced by the intense pain of the contractions, the fear of the jungle, and worry for Charlie. Jack used a cloth soaked in warm water to mop off her forehead._

_"Someone get me a bottle of water for her to drink," Jack said shortly. He heard footsteps hurry away and return quickly. He was handed a water bottle and Sayid tipped Claire's head back so Jack could pour in a few small sips. Claire choked and coughed and spit most of it up._

_"Jack. What happened to Charlie?" Locke asked in a low voice. Jack's shoulders tensed and he exhaled sharply._

_"He went running into the jungle after the monster. He wanted to distract it so it wouldn't go after Claire," Jack explained._

_Locke nodded. Jack's explanation only confirmed what he already believed. Decisively, he said, "I'll go find him."_

_"What?" Jack turned around quickly. "No! Locke, we can't lose you, too!"_

_"Don't worry, son. I know how to take care of myself all right," Locke answered. He glanced at Claire, who appeared to be having another contraction. "Your responsibility is to her. We can't lose her."_

_Jack nodded. He knew arguing would get him nowhere with John Locke. The old man went to his briefcase and selected a few lethal-looking knives from the arsenal he had. As he strode from the caves, a faint song echoed through the cave. Jack and the rest of the people in the cave turned to stare at Claire in surprise._

_"Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera… sera…"_

The voice stopped, and Locke paused momentarily. He heard Jack say something in a frantic voice, and Kate responded with like fear. Locke heard many voices, but none belonged to her. The lightest breath of breeze passed over him. It almost felt as if it caressed his cheek, however briefly. When Locke gazed up at the night sky, he could almost believe that the stars were the eyes of those who had already passed on, watching over him, and one seemed to be winking at him. Although tears were entering Locke's eyes, he smiled and mouthed the words "thank you" before rushing off to find Charlie.

---  
Charlie sat at the edge of a cliff with his legs dangling towards the black water far below him. There was no breeze where he sat, yet still he shivered as if her were cold, or as if the icy ghosts of her past were going through him. His eyes were focused on the horizon at the millions of burning stars. All of them could be dead, could have died a thousand years ago and were now only showing Charlie a shadow of their once bright lights. They had lived and died without anyone noticing or caring. The thought was sad enough to bring tears to Charlie's eyes. They spilled over and fell down his face, dripped off his chin, and were absorbed back into the earth.

He was no surprised, nor was he comforted, when footsteps approached him from behind. Locke sat beside him and watched the tears that were still glimmering in the moonlight on Charlie's face. His expression was grave, and although Charlie did not look at his face he could already read the answer written in the tired lines and wrinkles. His face crumpled and his shoulders slumped as he put his head in his hands. He didn't want to ask the question, he didn't want to hear the words that would cement his fate.

He asked anyway. "What happened?"

Locke sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Charlie. She's… gone."

"And the baby?"

"Gone."

"Why, John? She was so good, so pure. The rest of us, we all have our evils, our own secrets we have to bury and hide, but she didn't. She was open, free, innocent… why did she have to be the one to die?" Charlie asked. He turned to stare at Locke and his eyes reflected the sky above; dark and infinite.

"I don't know, Charlie. Sometimes things happen that we just don't understand. Can't understand. You have to accept it and keep going," Locke answered firmly. He didn't like the look in Charlie's eyes. It frightened him a little and gave him a chilling sense of foreboding. He wanted to snap Charlie out of it, but it was too late.

Charlie looked at the ocean. "The monster was chasing me. It almost got me. When it tumbled over the cliff it nearly took me, too. I watched it fall into the water. It sank straight down to the bottom. I don't know why, but it made me feel so bad, John. Why did they all die? Not a single one survived, not a single one, John! Why? Why her? Why not me? I would take her place in a heartbeat, John. Why did they all have to die?" Charlie was sobbing and his words were nearly incoherent. Locke remained quiet. He could not make sense of Charlie's words, but grief is a language that needs no spoken words. He thought it best to let Charlie let it out rather than bottle it up inside of him, although the sound was tearing Locke up inside. He knew what it felt like to lose a loved one and how easy it was to give up on living. He grieved for Claire and he feared for Charlie as he sat on the cliff next to the inconsolable man.

"Come on, son, let's go back to the caves. You need something hot to eat and then some sleep," Locke urged. He stood up and tried to lift Charlie to his feet. The younger man looked blankly up at Locke.

In a voice devoid of all emotion, Charlie muttered, "You go on, Locke. I'll be along in a minute."

"No, Charlie, you need to come with me now."

Charlie's eyes were closing. Locke could no longer look into them and see Charlie. All he saw was the sky, the vast, empty sky with its countless stars, stars that were probably all dead and gone or dying as they stood on that cliff. When Charlie spoke, his voice was like that of a demon's, and it make Locke shudder. "No, John. You go ahead. There are things I have to take care of."

Locke's eyes became sat. He reached out and clasped Charlie's shoulder for a second. Charlie pursed his lips and nodded as a way of conveying silent gratitude for all the things Locke had done for him. He received a nod in return, Locke's way of saying goodbye before he turned and walked away. Charlie went to the edge of the cliff and inhaled deeply, feeling the sea mist hit his face.

In the jungle, Locke stopped with his back turned to the cliff. His entire body tensed and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he listened with all his might and waited… waited… waited… both dreading and anticipating what was to come, he waited… very faintly and from a long, long distance, a splash was heard. It was over.

Locke cried.

-----

Jumping was the easy part. It was falling that scared Charlie, because with the fall came a rush that was all too familiar to Charlie's body. It was too similar to the drugs for Charlie not to start to fall back into withdrawal.

The slap of the water against his skin was not felt by Charlie, though hitting the bottom of the ocean did bring him out of his craving. The sandy bottom caught and cradled him, and the frigid water was like a blanket covering his broken body and hiding it from sight. Charlie felt his soul rise out of his body, sprout wings, and rise. Suddenly there was no more pain or sadness because he knew exactly where he was going and who would be there to meet him. One of the stars above him grew and grew until its light filled the sky, making it brighter than day. Charlie had to shield his eyes and for a moment an inexplicable fear gripped him. Judgment was coming, the ultimate Judgment, and he was unworthy.

Then a gentle touch caressed his cheek. Charlie leaned into it and smiled against the soft palm of the hand. When his eyes opened an angel stood before him, clad in clothes so white they seemed too perfect, too unearthly, and her golden hair shined as though the sun itself focused only on her. The being before him was ethereal and beautiful, and in her arms she cradled a babe with eyes bluer than the finest sapphires.

"Don't be afraid, my Charlie. I'll help you," Claire whispered. She smiled and rivaled all the stars of the universe in brightness. Charlie smiled, too, and they came together for a pure, chaste kiss. Then he looked at the baby and she passed her son into his arms. "He's your son too, you know. Not by blood of course, but spiritually. Do you believe it?"

"Yes," Charlie answered, ready to accept any words that came from Claire's mouth. "Are you in pain, love?"

"No. We'll never be in pain again, Charlie. None of us." Claire reached out a hand, which Charlie grasped while still keeping a hold on their baby. Together, they walked fearlessly towards the source of the light, their hearts swelling with love for each other.

-----

**The End.**


End file.
